


What We Believed

by Limey



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Deadfire Spoilers, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Oblivious, Overthinking, Personal Growth, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23531410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limey/pseuds/Limey
Summary: After Iselmyr tricks Edér into kissing her, Edér repairs a friendship. Aloth is slow to trust. Edér is slow to catch on. A Deadfire retelling with a far more hands-off Watcher.
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser/Edér Teylecg, Maia Rua/Xoti, Rekke/Tekēhu (Pillars of Eternity)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the cut dialogue (still in the game files) where Edér kisses Iselmyr. It will help make sense of the beginning if you look this up before reading this fic. I think it was deservedly cut for being creepy (especially the way it was “resolved”), but I wanted to give these two (three?) souls a chance to work things out if it _did_ happen.
> 
> I’ve tried to keep the various plot details of Deadfire light to reflect a myriad of Watcher choices, but there are a few decisions that I made for this fic:
> 
> The Watcher is opposed to slavery, errs on the side of good, and kept The Defiant as their flagship.
> 
> Edér joined the Night Market at the end of PoE. Personally, I think the Mayor of Dyrwood ending is more fitting, but I feel it makes little sense for Edér to suddenly get very concerned about his Eothasian beliefs in Deadfire without the Night Market ending.
> 
> Aloth chose to dismantle The Leaden Key and to not banish Iselmyr. The crueller, “might is right” Aloth as a result of the opposite choices is not the adorable grumpy elf I grew so fond of.
> 
> I am British, and so while I can write fluent Aedyran for Aloth (and interpret Hylspeak), my Dyrwoodan dialect for Edér may be off, for which I can only apologise.

The bells of The Defiant rang as clear as the fresh blue sky of the morning. Excited cheers and chatter filled the sloop: the time the bells counted signalled breakfast, the smell of bubbling broth and bacon already rolling upward from the lower decks.

Which Edér , his stomach grumbling, regretted not partaking in. It was, however, also the perfect time to slip to another cabin unheeded to have a difficult conversation in relative privacy.

He’d almost kissed Iselmyr. Aloth. A prank that the dead woman had found hilarious, but had left Edér’s ego bruised. He had shrugged that off, like he did most wounds, but couldn’t ignore the guilt that burned hot and shameful inside when he recalled Aloth’s expression. His elven friend had looked so damn young for his years, hurt and humiliated.

And while Edér had stood there uselessly trying to make sense of what happened, Aloth had handled it in the way he did all things uncomfortable: erected his barriers, swept it under the rug with all his hurt, and walked away. Edér knew that he had been only too glad to be given the chance to save face and he had to admit, for a man willing to face down Eothas in his godlike glory, in that moment he had been a gutless coward.

And for what? … Well. He hadn’t really worked that out, either. Curiosity was part of it. Iselmyr was fun and he suspected would be _very_ fun for kissing, and Aloth, well… Aloth was pretty in the way most elves were. Edér knew he had no excuse: in that moment, he had just _wanted_ to, and that had been a terrible reason to go ahead with it.

Aloth had fallen back on his old habits since, avoiding him and the others more than he had been in recent times in the Deadfire, and Edér hated himself for being the cause of that. The reclusive man didn’t easily warm up to company. They had a bond, of sorts, from their previous travels, but it was tenuous as they found their new equilibrium in the Deadfire. Five years had passed. Aloth no longer took Edér’s playful jabs laying down, which had left Edér off-kilter. It felt much easier to speak to Iselmyr instead. Iselmyr hadn’t changed a bit.

Edér knew he wasn’t always the quickest to make sense of his thoughts, but by the time he realised how much he had messed up things between them, that the bonds forged through blood and battle alone were not enough, the damage was done, even before his… misstep. He regretted it wholly. He focused on Iselmyr but he had _missed_ Aloth; missed their gentle camaraderie, their verbal sparring, a few stories swapped whenever the grumpy elf was not buried in a book, the odd playful tease of Aloth’s sensibilities through Iselmyr.

That last one, he resolved to change. (A bit. Aloth’s reactions were sometimes just too funny to pass up.)

Apparently, Iselmyr could be exactly as wilful as Aloth had described, and Edér knew he had been an idiot not to have trusted Aloth as the foremost expert of Iselmyr’s intentions. He’d always chalked the complaints up as part of Aloth’s fussy nature, exaggerating Iselmyr’s destructive influence. He’d now had a taste first-hand, and had developed a new understanding and some sympathy for Aloth’s situation.

He maneuvered around the narrow passageways to the berths, knowing that was where the man would have sequestered himself, as he did most days aboard the ship.

Sure enough, Aloth was comfortably reclined atop one of the bottom bunks, a book in one hand. Edér could only make out line after line of dense writing and the dark lengths of hair at the back of the elf’s head. He had swapped his pillow to the foot of the berth to better take advantage of a shaft of light through one porthole to assist his reading. 

“Go away.”

Aloth hadn’t even looked up from his book, so at least Edér knew the annoyance hadn’t been specifically directed at him, but it didn’t bode well for their conversation.

He squared his shoulders. He had no gift with words, only sincerity, and he hoped it would be enough.

“I wanted ta talk,” he started, and Aloth startled, dropping his book in one instant and snatching up his grimoire in the other, nearly hitting his head on the berth above as he sat up with an expression of wide-eyed -

Gods, was that _fear_?

A painfully long second passed, Aloth’s breathing harsh, before his features schooled themselves into surface calm. The grimoire remained open and ready in his hands, however. “What about?”

Edér was impressed at Aloth’s reflexes, but being the target of them cut deep. He raised his hands in surrender, just in case he was about to find out about being on the receiving end of Minoletta’s Concussive Missiles first-hand. 

“I came to say, I’m real sorry about what happened. I know just sayin’ it ain’t going to cut it, but -” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to make things clear: when Iselmyr fed me that sob story, I really thought -”

“What exactly did you think, Edér?” Aloth interrupted him, abandoning the pretense that this topic of conversation wasn’t happening and slamming his grimoire shut. “That I could just… just _step out for a while_ while you indulged your ardor?”

Edér blanched. “No - gods no, Aloth, no wonder you’ve been hidin’ from me. Shit.” He wouldn’t have. Never. He shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn’t - I asked Iselmyr; she said it was alright with you -”

“Of course she did, because that’s what she does,” was the clipped response. “We had established some boundaries until _you started encouraging her_.”

“I really didn’t intend to encourage her in, uh, that direction.” Edér flushed, guiltily. “‘Least, not with actual physical contact n’ all.”

Aloth sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. Edér was so genuinely clueless. When he looked up again, his eyes turned hard, forcing down his emotions to speak the ugly truth, “I know you would much rather spend time with her than me, but this is _my_ body and as such -”

“No! Gods, no, Aloth.” Edér was appalled with himself. He’d made such a mess of this. “I understand a helluva lot better now,” he sighed, long and heartfelt; not sure what or which point he needed to get across first. “Please, hear me out. I like Iselmyr; she makes me laugh, but that wasn’t the real point of why I got to talkin’ with her. It’s ‘cause she’s a part of _you_. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be ashamed that she pops up from time to time. An’ truthfully, I sometimes learn more about you from _her_. I took it too far, letting her run her mouth instead of you n’me talking more. I’m angry Iselmyr played that cheap trick, but to be honest, I’m more angry with myself for not thinkin’ of you, first.”

Edér paused, trying to gauge Aloth’s reaction, but was unable to read the other man’s still, expressionless face throughout his train-of-consciousness tumble.

“Ain’t got a good excuse. I never could resist a pretty face askin’ for a kiss all sweet-like,” Edér admitted, the faintest flush across his tanned cheekbones. “And that was dumb of me, alright? Hel, I’m not good at fixing things, but I want to make this right. I know sorry’s not enough. Next time Iselmyr tries baitin’ me or you, I’m not gonna let her treat you bad. And I’m gonna let you do the talking more, ‘specially if she wants something; I’m checking what you think first. And - anything else I can do, really. To fix this.”

Edér looked down at his boots, all out of words. “I’m real sorry. Can we still be friends?”

Aloth stared at the other man, trying to puzzle out his motives, his brain stuck on unpicking the various elements of that apology, and fighting down an embarrassed flush of his own. He was still hurt and angry, freshly reminded of his humiliation, but the lumbering oaf seemed sincere, all kicked-puppy eyes and halting sentences.

 _Friends_. Aloth hadn’t been sure that they were truly so up to now. It had been a very long time since he had friends. It had been a very long time since he could be - well, himself. To not have to hide everything.

Edér was not the most intelligent fellow, and a little too rough sometimes, like a large excitable dog that wanted to play but sometimes just got underfoot or jumped on you muddily when you wore your best robes. However, Aloth was learning that intent counted as much as action did: The Watcher had been kind and firm enough to set his head on straight more than once on that point. And Edér seemed to genuinely desire repairing the friendship.

And Edér did not, could not know the additional pain he had caused. 

Aloth could see, objectively, that Edér was an attractive man with a number of decent qualities. If he so chose, he would not want for company; he had no problems pursuing who he liked and he was popular in kind, if Xoti’s interest was any indication of such things. Aloth was aware by contrast that he lived a life of rigid self-control, for he knew no other way to be. To find himself encircled in warm, solid arms, to find himself gazed at with affection that was not for _him_ , had left him feeling raw and jealous and a myriad of other emotions that he usually kept firmly bottled, and he had _none_ of his usual defenses available in that moment.

He had managed, because he always did: he had forced Iselmyr back with all of his anger and took control, but later his head had been swimming at the implications. It was unsettling to know that Edér found his face and body… physically pleasing, if Iselmyr’s cackling taunt was anything to go by. It stirred up a lot of uncomfortable thoughts that he did not wish to examine.

And here, he had an out for all of that: accept the apology, move on, pretend it all never happened. Aloth was fine with that.

He set his grimoire aside, and released a sigh, and a lot of tension he hadn’t realised he was holding until now. “Yes, yes. We can.” 

Edér visibly relaxed in kind, relief clearly writ in his features. “Thanks. I mean it.” He wanted to do more, somehow. “Irrena’s whipped us up a feast. You want to get breakfast?”

Aloth shook his head, still feeling wary about it all, wanting to be left to the privacy of his thoughts, and offered an apologetic smile. “Thank you, but I was rather enjoying my book.”

“Alright. Want me to bring down somethin’?”

Aloth considered carefully. He wasn’t especially hungry, but he knew a peace-offering was in the subtext. Gods knew he had apologised enough times in his life to recognise the patterns by now, even if other social situations eluded him.

“Please. Ah - nothing greasy. I’ve only just managed to remove all the squid-ink off of my pages,” he made a darkly significant expression and flicked his eyes up to where might be Tekehu’s general direction on top deck.

Edér’s face lifted into a twinkling smile. Things were going to be alright. “See what I can do. No promises!”

Aloth watched him leave, and sighed his relief when he was alone once more, flopping back onto his pillow. That could have gone a lot worse, especially as he had found recalling the… incident... deeply stressful, usually a sure-fire trigger for a torrent of Hylspeak voicing thoughts he did not want to share. Good thing Iselmyr would be unlikely to surface anytime soon.

He had let Iselmyr know in no uncertain terms she had gone too far. They’d had a furious, near-silent argument over her little stunt, Aloth shouting down her down her every word, shaking with fury, until she had finally sneered and capitulated. She was still sulking in the recesses of his mind.

He appreciated Edér’s intentions to set boundaries with her, but knew from his fifty-plus years of experience that Iselmyr understood no such concept. She would do as she willed, and Aloth knew that was, in part, his own fault, for not developing the strength to act on his own emotions and relying on her to do so for him. He worked alone and had no safety net; how could he possibly let his guard down to learn?

Back to normal, then, as much as normal ever was for a man with an Awakened soul, Aloth supposed, and picked up his pages from where he had left off.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take long for Iselmyr to feel left out of the fighting and general swashbuckling and begin asserting herself as normal. Aloth knew she was still angry. While their agreement to share his soul and not fight for dominance stood, a few lancing pains in his skull whenever she emerged were a reminder of their recent argument.

Aloth was pleasantly surprised when Edér was true to his word and flat-out defended his honour; what left him stunned was that the simple farmer somehow got Iselmyr to actually listen and behave herself.

Internally, he panicked, because throughout their entire acquaintanceship Edér’s jibes and jokes had been the glue of their interactions and if they all stopped, then what would happen? Edér tripped him up by requesting to court Iselmyr with a wink and a chuckle; Aloth had huffed, but was secretly relieved not to be treated like glass, and he could relax, as much as he was ever able. He and Iselmyr slowly returned to better terms once more, and Aloth was glad he didn’t have to go back to fighting her presence for fear of the outcome. Iselmyr adhered to their usual bargain, and Aloth was grateful for those moments where her battle-reactions steered him out of trouble.

In the pursuit of Eothas, The Watcher took them out to the open sea towards Hasongo. Days aboard The Defiant, without port, forced people to either work together or into close confrontation; sometimes both. Maia and Pallegina by silent agreement did not bring up their respective employers, but not all others shared their discipline. Aloth always tried to stay quiet and unobserved when tempers flared; no change there, but he had fewer options for escape.

A few too many days at sea, some bad moods due to poor weather and close proximity, and several ongoing spats and threats came to a head one night at dinner. Someone had made one barb too many, hit a nerve, and all hell broke loose, a brawl of sailors and warriors alike.

Before Aloth could make himself scarce, Iselmyr responded to Aloth’s fear and, deciding he was likely at risk, had delightedly leapt into the fray.

The Watcher had put an end to the fighting almost immediately with devastating efficiency. Punishments were doled out; rum rations cut to cries of outrage. Xoti and Tekehu patched up the injured. Individuals were taken aside and had the sense scared back into them.

Aloth only worked this all out later when he woke up in his bunk with his ribs aching and one eye that refused to open properly. 

He forced himself to stay very still while he ascertained his situation: how had he ended up in his bunk? Was he alone, or about to have to explain himself? Gods. He _hated_ this.

His senses were dulled with pain, but he could hear creaking and movement of cloth nearby. Not alone, then. Safe? Maybe. He let out a soft exhale, pretending to wake, cracking open his one cooperative eye.

To his surprise, Edér’s face swam into view, a hint of a smile beneath his beard. “Hey. How you feelin’?”

Aloth groaned in initial reply, gingerly sitting up, and taking in the other man through the one good eye. Edér sat upon a stool, hands curled around his pipe, leaning back against the adjacent berth. He had been here a while, judging by the faint yet lingering scent of whiteleaf. Aloth couldn’t decide whether he was glad to see Edér or not; on the one hand, he and the man had built some sort of rapport, but on the other, he would rather not let the warrior see him at his weakest.

He looked down. He had been stripped to the waist, a bandage wrapped tightly around his torso. Just how long had he been out? How much damage had Iselmyr caused?

“Yeah, Iselmyr got you right in the thick of it,” Edér answered his unspoken question, with some sympathy in his tone. “Not all the crew know what’s up with you and her, and she was, uh, enthusiastic in delivering some of her punches.”

“Lovely,” Aloth managed, closing his eye for a moment in the vain hope he could shut out his burning shame.

“Xoti worked on you, by the way. Not all magic; too many people for that,” Edér continued. “I figured it was better I explained what happened when you came to. Not sure who actually knocked you out.” Edér’s voice suddenly became much less friendly. “Which is probably good for their own sake.”

“Thank you.” Aloth drew the bedsheets higher around him as if it could hide his vulnerability, and took in Edér with concern in kind. The other man sported fresh bruises most of the way down his arms, mottled pink mixed with the tan. His posture didn’t indicate any major injuries, but Aloth couldn’t help but note the tired circles beneath his eyes. “How long have you been here?”

“Best part of the morning,” was the answer. A sheepish pause, then, “and some of last night. After Xoti finished, anyway.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Wanted to.”

Aloth fought down a fresh flush of emotion at the gesture. Getting used to kindness was dangerous. Letting his guard down more so.

But before he could think of what to say, Edér leaned in, suddenly looking serious.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened.” The question was unspoken.

An automatic lie was on the tip of Aloth’s tongue, but something in Edér’s expression made him think better of it. “No,” he agreed, averting his gaze, lest Edér read his life’s history in his face.

The other man blew out a slow breath. “No wonder,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” Aloth frowned.

Edér still looked mutinous, hand reflexively patting for his tobacco pouch before spotting it sitting empty on the nearby dresser. “I never really understood what livin’ with Iselmyr was like for you until recently.” His thumb rolled over his pipe in agitation.

Aloth shrugged, and winced a bit for the attempt. “She helps as much as hinders. Though I do wish her hindrances were less catastrophic.”

“If ye’d not dallied on yer feet in the first place, lad! - ” Iselmyr’s voice burst from his lips in protest, but Aloth pushed her back down with a huff of annoyance, not in the mood to entertain her, and she allowed it.

Edér hesitated. He had a question more borne of curiosity than concern, and having heard Iselmyr, he was unsure whether to voice it. In the end, he chose to: he’d rather regret something he said than he didn’t.

“When we were in Defiance Bay,” he said slowly, “you had the option to - make her quiet. Do you think… was… livin’ like this the right choice?”

Aloth sucked in a breath, not expecting such a personal question out of Edér. Neither had Iselmyr; he could feel her angrily retreat from his thoughts like they had burned her. It took him a moment to find his words.

“I thought you liked Iselmyr.”

“I do,” Edér said at once. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you both decided to work together. But it ain’t my soul that’s Awakened, so I can’t know what it’s like.” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “I like her. I don’t like seeing you laid out like this. I dunno. I wish you’d both been dealt a better hand.”

“So do I.”

Aloth still didn’t understand what had prompted the question. Edér looked vaguely troubled, and it made him think that maybe Edér didn’t know himself.

“Sorry. That was a real personal thing to ask.”

Aloth waved a dismissive hand. Edér had been there to know the worst of his secrets regarding his Awakening first-hand. At this juncture, it seemed fruitless to hide his thinking.

“I… considered what I chose,” he answered. “More than once. In situations not dissimilar to these,” he flicked his gaze indicatively to his bandages. “My conclusion is unchanged. If our positions were reversed, would I deserve to be subjugated that way, for the crime of existence? For making mistakes, when I’ve made so many of my own?

“It would be freedom, but at the expense of another. Another who, despite her faults, has tried to help me.” He shook his head. “Since I agreed to live with her, things have been… good, actually. A little like having a friend.”

He could feel a small, sympathetic flash of gratitude flicker in his soul. He smiled quietly, recalling their strange little conversations, whenever she felt like actually talking instead of lashing out. He had mostly forgiven her for toying with Edér; she had been quietly remorseful.

“We’re different, but she means well, for the most part.” He swallowed, tried to walk the confessional tightrope with care, not wanting to give too much away. “When she puts up a fight, it’s usually because I’ve… been unable to act in the moment. If I didn’t have Iselmyr, who is to say I wouldn’t have ended up the same way, except by my own indecision? Ultimately, she takes over whenever I am unable, but not unwilling.” Aloth smiled wryly. “Now we aren’t in conflict, she is, in effect, a terrible filter for my impulses. Which is why I try simply not to have any.”

“Sounds hard.”

Aloth’s smile remained, thinned. “Fifty years of practice helps.”

Edér frowned, and Aloth could tell the other man was thinking. He hoped the other man wouldn’t end up sitting there for the rest of the day or do himself an injury in the process.

“There’s gotta be a better way,” Edér said abruptly. “You didn’t deserve _this_.” He flapped a hand at the bandage wrapped around Aloth’s frame.

“There’s no easy way, certainly,” Aloth sighed. “Not without compromising my mission and revealing Iselmyr to people who would certainly hurt us both.”

He gestured flippantly to his bandaged self with a bit more drama than Edér had. “This is the compromise, at present.”

He saw Edér look over him, still troubled, and he reflexively dug his fingers into the blanket, wanting to shield his embarrassment beneath it. He frowned. “I don’t want your pity.”

Edér blinked and looked up. Not what had been on his mind, but maybe it was better Aloth had misinterpreted. Not every day you got invited to actually get a decent look at Aloth without armour on, so he’d taken the opportunity to be pleasantly surprised at all the unscholar-like muscle beneath.

“Oh. Well - good thing I’m not giving it, then. Just good ol’ fashioned concern for your well-being.” Edér winked, and then remembered why he had sat here, setting his pipe down and reaching down beside him. A few moments, and he had a clean, damp white cloth in hand. “For your eye.”

Aloth took it gratefully, settling it carefully in place. His mind swirled, finding himself torn: his instinct was to speak his thanks and request privacy, but some small voice inside of him that wasn’t Iselmyr just wanted the other man to stay. 

In these situations, it was hard for him to feel in control, and already weakened, he feared Iselmyr would take over to make mischief of any his wayward thoughts. But Edér was familiar with her, and he was strong enough to keep them both out of trouble. It was a novel experience, to think he did not have to worry for a few minutes. 

“Edér,” he began, feeling out the question he wanted to ask by hiding it under a different one. “How many other people are… recovering?”

The other man shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. I noticed Maia was sportin’ a shiner near good as yours when I was dragging you outta there.”

“Dragging me - ?”

“I was hardly going to leave you on the floor while merry Hel went on around you,” Edér raised an eyebrow.

Aloth stared with the one good eye he had.

“Sorry, I know it’s not good for the dignity n’ all, but explainin’ Iselmyr to everyone who don’t know her yet didn’t seem right without your say-so. Figured it was better to get you outta there without questions.” Edér’s lips formed a rueful smile.

Aloth made a pained face. “Yes - I mean, thank you, that was good of you, but - I meant... how many people am I going to have to apologise to?”

“Oh. Couldn’t rightly say. I was sparring with Rekke when it all kicked off. But I wouldn’t worry; you didn’t start it, and uh, Iselmyr didn’t finish it, either, by my reckoning. Then the good Captain began banging heads together. Trust me, I think a lot more people owe you one, than the other way around.”

Aloth nodded, his fingers absently toyed with the edge of the blanket. It was never any less embarrassing, any less terrifying to know that a second of lost control resulted in… this.

 _Yer pride’ll mend what will yer ribs_. Iselmyr regretted not getting the upper hand; Aloth could feel she was almost as embarrassed as he was, albeit for different reasons.

There was quiet for a moment, both men awkward. The ship was never silent, feet pounding above their heads and muffled shouts across the deck, but it was unusual not to be tripping over each other in such a small place. Neither was inclined to break the peace of the moment by speaking; Aloth by nature, and Edér, by not knowing what to say next.

Edér reluctantly spoke first. “Well... now I’m reassured n’ all that you’re not concussed, want me to let you rest?”

 _No, I don’t_ , but Aloth didn’t know how to say that aloud. His lips twitched at the comment despite himself. “Aren’t you meant to peer into someone’s eyes to discern that?”

Edér chuckled, “well, you’d need two of them workin’ first. ‘Sides, you’re bein’ you; I figure that’s a good sign.” He stood up and stretched; Aloth felt a brief flare of panic at the thought of being left at the mercy of his bunkmates’ stares and comments when Edér was gone.

“Do you have duties top-deck?”

“No,” Edér answered easily, and followed up perceptively, “I don’t have nowhere to be if you wanted some company.”

“I -” the protest was on the tip of his tongue, the lie reflexive, but gods, he was tired and injured and maybe, just maybe Edér might prove himself trustworthy enough not to make fun of him.

“... Yes,” Aloth admitted quietly, breaking his gaze to look at his hands.

Edér’s eyes widened in surprise, but mercifully, didn’t mock him for it. “Like I said: don’t have nowhere to be. You really okay? You’re not much one for company usually. No offense.”

It was true, so Aloth took none. He couldn’t explain, how he usually woke up from incidents like this, either utterly alone or surrounded by those who demanded retribution, and to wake up to a friendly face was so utterly novel that he desperately wanted to prolong the experience.

It was too much to admit, and lying was second-nature. “I’m as fine as I can be. But I can’t read like this and I could do with a distraction from the pain.”

“I’ve got some spare whiteleaf somewheres,” Edér teased, and Aloth’s expression predictably wrinkled in response. “I hear you. I once fell out of a tree when I was a kid, hit damn near every branch on the way down. I was sore as anything. I was in bed for a whole week. Cried every time Ma put on fresh ointment.”

“How old were you?” Aloth asked, curious.

“Eight, maybe nine? Old enough to work on the farm by that point.”

Aloth ran a hand over the free half of his face. He would have never been allowed to climb a tree, at any age. “You must think I’m hopelessly fragile.”

Edér hummed in thought for a moment. “Wouldn’t say that, least, not in the way you think. Back in Dyrwood maybe, before I really understood what you were all about.”

“... And you do now?”

“Hel no!” Edér barked a laugh. “You’re all secrets and avoidances, I don’t know if I’ll ever get to know you as half as well as I’d like.”

Aloth knew it was the truth, as much as it stung. He didn’t know how to let anyone be closer.

Edér continued, “you were all Aedyrian highborn-and-highbrow and that’s all I had to go on for a long time.” 

He chewed it over, trying to put his words in order.

“But - I get why you did that. I had a taste of that myself, when I was runnin’ errands for the Night Market. Having to pretend to be one thing while wanting to be another, all day. Wanting to make things better for folk, and not sure if I was succeeding. Wonderin’ if I was about to make a mistake that would cost me my life.” He looked thoughtful, drummed his fingers on his knee as he found his words. 

“You talk about dismantling a shadowy gods-ordained ancient cult all by yourself, planning out your every move, and been doin’ it for five years with no one to talk to. Before that, you were tryin’ to keep your soul under wraps. And before that,” Edér proposed awkwardly, “you didn’t have folks who looked out for you.” The words were euphemistic, but the meaning was clear: Edér had not forgotten that day in the Sanitarium back in Defiance Bay. 

“I can’t imagine doing that as long as you have. A sword’s not the only measure of strength.”

Aloth’s ears reddened at the compliment, however unintended. Edér didn’t notice, trying to feel his way through the point. He sucked in a breath, willing to make a confession. 

“I didn’t draw that conclusion all by myself, mind. Me n’ the Watcher had a talk about you, not too long ago. Not that it wasn’t good to see you again, but I wasn’t sure we should trust you, given you were a Leaden Key spy n’ all.”

He checked in guiltily with Aloth, who merely nodded him to continue.

“Turns out, I needed someone to remind me I’d been doing much the same as you. Sure helped set my head on straight. And that got me thinking. A lot’s changed in five years and… well, I didn’t rightly know what to make of that you’d changed, too.”

“In what way?” Aloth was surprised that there had been any change that would catch Edér's notice.

“Mm.” Edér hedged, not even quite sure if he knew the answer yet himself. “Well, for one, you stand up for yourself now. Wasn’t used to you actually speaking your mind. Anyways, what I’m sayin’ is, I’ll give you shit when I’m picking your ass up after battle, but I know you've got guts, and I’ve got your back.”

Edér looked uncharacteristically serious, and Aloth could only assume he meant it.

“Thank you. Likewise… if you needed… someone to help unravel your thoughts, I would be happy to help. In return.”

He wasn’t good at this. But Edér seemed to understand.

“Sure. But I’ll wait until you have both eyes available to roll at me,” the other man grinned.

Aloth huffed a soft laugh, his ribs not up to more. He twisted the corners of the blanket in his lap, turning them in his fingers as he did his own thoughts. He had trusted the Watcher with his secrets, and Edér knew some of them by proxy.

“Our esteemed Captain must think us both incapable of talking to each other,” he mused. Catching sight of the other man’s blank face, he clarified, “you’re not the only one that needed to… voice their concerns.”

Edér nodded slowly. “No wonder I felt my ears burning,” but he grinned, accepting the criticism: fair enough, they hadn’t reconnected at first blush. “Is everything alright now?”

“It is,” Aloth reassured. “My concerns were addressed. Most admirably, by yourself.”

“I can’t decide if that’s condescending or a compliment.”

Aloth simply smiled. Let Edér decide which interpretation he preferred.

Now there was an expression not seen very often, the other man mused, looking Aloth over. For his talk of wanting to stay distracted, he looked like he was about to fall asleep again any moment, cloth over one eye and all.

“Here,” he said quietly, removing the cloth from Aloth’s hand carefully. “You look dead beat.”

Aloth’s smile remained, smaller, but still there. “I suppose I must do.” He felt a yawn coming on, and only half repressed it by turning into his pillow, and conceded Edér was right, and that he should probably get some sleep while he could. “What time is it?”

“You got time to get some shut-eye, that’s what time it is.” Edér’s voice was firm, yet fond.

Aloth’s lips twitched. “Alright.” He murmured more quietly, shy to say it, but - “thank you.”

“Y’welcome.”

Edér watched Aloth settle, and leaned back on his stool, not quite ready to leave yet, thinking of Aloth’s request to stay. It had surprised him. It made him wonder how many other times Aloth had needed a friend and had said nothing. But then, the man had always been something of a loner - even if he’d wanted help, there would have been no one. Edér hoped that travelling with the Watcher would change that, that Aloth would know he could just ask and not struggle alone.

He felt oddly protective of Aloth; had done from the day they’d found him failing to talk down an angry mob. It seemed like the more he learned about the mage, the more he understood that whatever walls the other man had thrown up for his own protection were no shield to misery.

Aloth smiled more now than he ever remembered him doing, despite everything. Edér hoped he might live to see more of that.


	3. Chapter 3

The adra in the lighthouse at Hasongo glowed again, offering safety to sailors from Sayuka and Neketaka. The Watcher’s victory was bittersweet. The impressions of a titan’s footsteps remained as Eothas still marched on, devastation in his wake.

For others, the past could be just as devastating.

Edér did not speak to many people in the days returning to Neketaka. Word soon spread around the ship of his loss, and he was carefully avoided by warrior and crew alike.

For once, Aloth found himself the more sociable of the pair. He fielded questions about Edér’s wellbeing more than once: it was no secret that they had both travelled together through Dyrwood in the five years before, and it was expected that he knew Edér more than anyone save the Watcher. Aloth was polite and gave non-specific advice, but squirmed to remember that he and Edér were far more distant in those days, and knew he was simply not qualified to remark on the other man’s state of mind.

 _Ye can change that, anytime ye wanted_. Iselmyr pointed out, more than once, from her silent vantage. _Ye take arms against wyrms, pirates, an godlings, an yer too africht to offer a friend some damn comfort?_

_He wants to be alone. He might not appreciate it._

_He’ll appreciate ye, lad. And if he dae nye, he’ll amember ye tried._

Aloth’s instinct was to strategise the right words to say, plan the conversation ahead. Iselmyr would have none of it, insistent on taking action, and he knew she was right; he knew in his heart that he was stalling out of discomfort. Grief was greater.

 _Alright. But please - let_ me _do this. No interruptions._

_Ay, fair._

_Thank you._

Edér was not difficult to find, not on a sloop of this size. He was sat behind coiled rope at the ship’s forecastle, and he said nothing when Aloth leaned against the bulwark a handbreadth away. 

Very little was said thereafter that was worth saying. Edér tried to brush Aloth off more than once, his words sometimes blunt, other times harsh and unkind. Aloth stayed and weathered the other man’s moods, knowing the words were as inconsequential as the waves that crashed against the hull. The sounds of life aboard the ship stifled any quietly shed tears. Aloth’s presence was a simple shield, offering privacy to the other man’s grief.

And when there was nothing left to say, when Edér’s face was dry, Aloth knew silence well to see them through the length of it, his presence companionable when words failed.

When Edér finally shifted, the sun was setting, the sea sparkling orange. The smell of cooking signified it would not be long until the crew would be rowdy on top deck.

“Thank you.”

Aloth inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

“And sorry. Not really you I’m mad at, but you know that already. ”

Aloth smiled slightly. “It’s quite alright.”

“I’ll be okay. It’s... been good, actually, travelling with you and the Watcher again. I’d have never found out about Elafa on my own. Or Bearn.” Edér looked up and gave a thin, tired smile. His eyes were slightly red. “It’s been good, not having to hide what’s been botherin’ me. Having someone to lead the way. You know?”

“... I do, yes.”

“Elafa woulda ripped me a new one by now, seein’ me like this,” Edér said ruefully.

“I am sure she would forgive your grief, if she was half the woman you say.”

“Yeah, but she’d sure knock some sense into me first. I got my answers; I just don’t like them. I think that’s what she was trying to tell me years ago.”

Edér scrubbed a hand over his face and beard. “She’s not here now. But that son of hers…”

“We’ll do what we can for him,” Aloth said. “The Watcher will help, you know that.”

“Yeah,” the other man exhaled slowly, realising he hadn’t felt that truth in his heart until now - that the Watcher of Caed Nua, speaker to the gods, cared about petty mortal problems, and that included Edér’s. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Edér pulled himself up from where he sat, feeling the pops and aches of joints from being seated there so long. He hummed a little, pulling his mind from its depths. There would be time for grief, to visit Elafa’s grave, to shake some sense into Bearn later. 

“I got what I came for in the Deadfire. Other than that whole blindly following my god in his trail of destruction thing. That one is still kinda a work-in-progress. It’s... just so much bigger than us. I mean more than literally. If I sit and think about Eothas, about all of this for too long… I’ll go crazy.”

He blew out a breath as a thought occurred to him, and turned his focus fully onto Aloth.

“How do you do it, Aloth?” Edér said, all of a sudden. “You’re always thinking. Planning. How do you make sense of all this?”

“Me?” Aloth was caught entirely off-guard by the question, blinking a few times, before he furrowed his brow and considered. “I look at the possibilities. And try to choose the least worst one. And even then, I worry about my choices. I- I don’t know any other way. I sometimes wish I could take a leaf out of your book and just do what feels right. It’s seemed to work for you so far.”

Edér huffed an empty laugh. “Yeah, maybe I should stick to what I’m good at.” He looked out over the horizon, imagining that moment when instead of land looming there it would be the body of his god. What would he feel? What would he do?

“Edér.” Aloth stepped neatly beside him. He did not know all Edér felt, but he’d caught the thread of desperation underlying the other man’s words. He was not good at comforting words, but he would try.

“It’s not all up to us,” he said, and added, with firm conviction, “The Watcher will know the right thing to do when the time comes. Even the gods themselves determined that.”

He looked at the other man, trying to catch his eye. It was unsettling to see Edér like this. Aloth knew what it was to carry a heart full of doubt.

“I don’t know how I will accomplish destroying the Leaden Key, or whether Eothas can be stopped. Or whether we will even live to see what it is he intends. What I do know is I can trust the Watcher.” 

Aloth hesitated before he spoke next, instincts warring with the words he wanted to say. “You’re a good man, Edér. I trust you, too, to do what’s right when the time comes.”

Edér’s head turned slowly from the horizon to look at Aloth, meeting his gaze. He blinked a few times, finding no trace of a lie, but a cautious, guarded expression. The words were a gift, and Edér knew not to make light of them.

“Means a lot from you,” he said. He reached out - slowly, trying not to startle the other man - and closed his hand on his shoulder. Aloth’s eyes widened, but he didn’t tense. “I hope I live up to that,” he said somberly.

It didn’t feel like enough. Edér had travelled with soldiers who became brothers, and Aloth had earned the same place. It half-killed him to see the other man still looking as unsettled, unsure by their connection when he had spent the best part of a day steadying Edér.

Impulsively, he pulled Aloth to his chest into a warm, firm hug. Gods knew the pair of them could do with one, and he knew no better, bigger way to express the depth of his gratitude and fondness. He felt Aloth briefly tense in surprise, but he held the moment, giving him a quick squeeze before releasing him. “Thank you.”

Aloth looked shocked. _He probably is_ , Edér thought, wondering when the last time was he’d received a hug. If Edér knew the answer was _not in memory_ , he might have looked as Aloth felt.

However, Aloth quickly recovered himself, clearing his throat. “Um. You’re welcome?” His voice was halfway between his anxious shrill pitch and his usual tones. He frowned and tried again, “I’m glad I could help. Besides,” he smiled dryly, “only one of us can be pensive and brooding at any one time abroad The Defiant.”

Edér snorted, pleased to return to their usual banter. “Fine, I’ll continue lopping heads, and leave the over-thinking to you.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“I’ll remind you that you said that next time I come between you and a buncha pointy-ends of swords.”

“Oh? Try doing so without my spells. You’ll have the chance; I’m sure it’s been entirely too long since we’ve been boarded by pirates today.”

Edér grinned. “Aw, but it’s real funny when they come leaping aboard and you’ve greased the deck.”

Aloth found his smile widening, and repressed a surely undignified giggle. “Yes, that _was_ rather unfortunate timing for them, wasn’t it?”

“Can you do it again?”

Aloth opened his mouth to argue that a battle situation merited _tactics_ , and that his mastery of the forces of arcane might were not for whimsical purposes. 

Edér looked twinkle-eyed and hopeful.

“... I’ll see what I can do.” Aloth answered.

Edér beamed. “Alright. I’ll look forward t-”

The evening bells rang out as he spoke, marking the hour, and a hot meal. The shouts and cheers of the crew rose from the belly of the ship.

Aloth made a face, and Edér understood it at once.

“I’ll let you go find somewhere quiet,” he said, with a smile. “Thanks for puttin’ up with me today.”

Aloth nodded, pleased and relieved to not have to grapple for an excuse to find somewhere to read in peace. He gave a grateful smile, and quickly found his way down to the berths. Nobody would be there during mealtimes.

He sat on the edge of his bunk, and slowly exhaled. Now he was alone, he could process.

 _Ye did right-good_.

Well. Mostly alone, but he appreciated the sentiment, and smiled to himself.

It felt good to see Edér’s spirits lifted, and know he was the cause. The hug had surprised him. Edér was naturally tactile with… well, just about _everything_ they came across, but he had never been so with him before. Which was reasonable, as Aloth knew he didn’t exactly encourage it.

It was just… strange. But nice. He lingered on the memory, secretly enjoying the sensation for a good while longer before he considered touching his books.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references events of Edér’s short story, "The Reaping", but isn’t required reading.

The Watcher had ensured they had reached Bearn in time, and talked the boy into abandoning Bosc’s mad plans. For Edér, the journey to send the young man home was an awkward one, marked by silence.

Edér didn’t know how to feel, knowing he wasn’t Bearn’s father. He wanted to be _something_ to the boy - much as Elafa had been _something_ to him - but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to pick up the weighty mantle of mentor or father.

Almost everybody sensed the change in Edér over the coming days. Edér was strangely serious and thoughtful. The topic manifested in several conversations, some prompted by Edér himself. Those conversations left him with more questions than answers. He was grateful for the odd word of reassurance, but it did not help make his path any clearer.

He thought occasionally on Aloth’s offer of a listening ear, but his stubborn pride balked at the idea of dumping all his insecurities at his friend’s feet. He knew he was being irrational - Aloth was probably the only one on the whole ship - other than the Watcher - who would offer something impartial, something smart, and with careful consideration. The Watcher had enough to deal with, and on some level Edér felt he had to solve this himself. He was willing to be thrown a few breadcrumbs of wise words from the others, but he wanted to find his own answer.

He always thought there would be some earth-shattering event that would make it clear to him what he was meant to do in life. He had experienced a good number of earth-shattering events by now, including the very literal one of Eothas bursting out of Caed Nua. He had given up on the idea, now, that he would be given any more signs - he had been through more than a simple farmer was ever meant to, and it had never become any clearer. 

The ship had made port at Neketaka to resupply, but Edér felt no rush to leave the ship for once, content with the company of his pipe, taking in the views that the harbour offered, as if the answer would rise from the sea. He was musing on Pallegina’s words, the last person he had vaguely floated his thoughts at. She had offered her unique view of what it meant to be a parent, but also laid it plain:

 _You're not getting any younger. I know you don't like thinking, Edér, but maybe it's time to start_.

It was true. The dark corners of his heart whispered that maybe he wouldn’t survive this adventure, and all his worries were for nothing. His soul, on the other hand, wanted something worth fighting for.

“Edér.”

Edér looked up from his pipe. And up a bit more. “Hey, Tekēhu. What’s up?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came to ask,” the taller man returned smoothly, settling beside him, resting his forearms on the ship’s bulwark. “You seem troubled. Anything I can help with?”

Edér huffed a bit on his pipe. “Doubt it, but appreciate it nonetheless.”

Tekēhu was unruffled as always. “An unsolvable problem is best uttered, and then discarded to the waves. Give it a voice, I say.”

“Not sure how to,” Edér answered, taking another slow drag. “Lots of different things all mixed up together.”

Tekēhu nodded. “That is often the case with such things.” He gave a patient smile. “I have time, and no real business in Neketaka until nightfall.”

Edér looked out to sea. It was smooth, the wind gently tugging at his beard, the sun shining on his back. Somewhere, a god marched and the ocean floor shuddered with his every step. His problems felt inconsequential, embarrassing by comparison.

Tekēhu was made of shallows, as far as Edér could work out. Maybe he was exactly the kind of person who would not read into him and pull out more problems he hadn’t realised he had.

“Okay, well. I always thought… maybe one day I’d return home. Start a family. Run a farm. And here I am, five years later, with no sign of making it happen, and… I’m not sure whether I actually really want to.”

He felt a flush of ingrained shame at saying it aloud, knowing in his head exactly how his parents would have replied to that, had they had heard the words. But that was before his last visit. He doubted that he would be welcomed there again. The Deadfire wasn’t home, but Dyrwood was no longer his, either.

“... I guess I don’t know what I want anymore. Not sure I ever did.”

Tekēhu’s expression flickered like a school of fish, and Edér had the strangest feeling that maybe the arrogant, brash young Godlike actually understood more than he’d spoken aloud.

“Ekera. I feel the same way, at times.” Tekēhu looked out likewise onto the horizon. “If it is welcome, I can offer a suggestion.”

“.... Sure. Go on.”

“Start with what you don’t want, and see what is left.”

Edér barked out a laugh at that, and shook his head. “You make that sound easy.”

Tekēhu grinned a bit, turning his attention back to him. “Sometimes it is. I will give you an example.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Xoti.”

Edér groaned, slumping across the wood for a moment. He should have known Tekēhu would notice. Hel, probably the whole crew had seen him dance about trying to get away from her eager advances. “Don’t -! Ah, Hel, she’s a sweet girl, but…”

“... but not for you.”

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“See? A good start! What else?” Tekēhu’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Or should I say, who else? Are you sure you and the Watcher - ”

“- answer’s still no, there.”

“And it is still a waste I say,” Tekēhu said easily, smoothing back his hair.

Edér snorted. “You know, not all problems in Eora can be solved by getting a leg over.”

“It would certainly lift your mood,” Tekēhu tutted. “I could introduce you to some lovely and experienced Huana in the city.”

Edér cringed, least of all at the implications of the ‘experienced’ part of that sentence where Tekēhu was concerned. “Not what I want either.”

“See? The exercise works!” Tekēhu teased, following up with a wink. 

Edér chuckled. At least Tekēhu had cheered him up a bit. “Well, thanks. It’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” He drummed his fingers on the wood in front of him, feeling slightly foolish for their topic. It reminded him of his younger days, days long gone. “The stuff I worry about, you know... it ain’t _all_ girl trouble.”

“Oh, of course,” Tekēhu agreed, sagely. “You always gave the impression that you had a preference, but, flexibility is a good trait, I say.”

Edér stared blankly up at him.

The druid winked and clapped him on the shoulder. “I find considering the qualities that we desire in a mate is another way of holding a mirror up to the self. Who we choose to be with can… define us. For better or worse.”

“Speaking from experience?” Edér asked lightly, but saw Tekēhu’s brow furrow, the twinkle disappear from his eye, and wondered if he had misstepped.

“Perhaps,” Tekēhu offered, after a pause, but did not elaborate. He recovered quickly, and returned to settle on the bulwark. “What was it about Elafa that kept her in your thoughts?” He asked, curiously. A beat, and he added before Edér could answer, “besides your obviously fond recall of her bedchamber.”

“Ah, right. Hm.” Edér scratched at his beard, since that knocked a good few answers off his list. “She was pretty but not fussy about it. And scary. Heh, I always liked trouble. She was tough. Some girls are all bark and no bite, but Elafa could make real good on a threat. She set me in my place plenty of times.”

“You liked her dominance?” Tekēhu sucked in a sharp breath. Edér wondered what that was about.

“No! Well. Maybe?” Edér frowned deeply, trying to think about how to answer the question, and why that answer didn’t sit right, wasn’t the reason Elafa had such a hold on his interest. “I liked that she didn’t let me push her around. That when I wasn’t doin’ the right thing, or doin’ things for the wrong reasons, she would call me on it. Kept me from doin’ things completely stupid. Kept me honest.”

Tekēhu let out a non-committal hum. “Ah. I suppose it would be novel to a Dyrwoodan, that she treated you as an equal, and not as a provider.”

“An equal,” Edér echoed, feeling the word around his mouth. Yes. Astonishingly, Tekēhu was right. “Yeah, I guess so. She never needed anything I offered, and I never felt I needed to be anything more than just myself with her.”

A second realisation followed, remembering Elafa’s words from long ago. _I see a man who’s looking at me but seeing a version of me from days that have passed_.

He had not done her the same courtesy. He had seen a wife and a farmhold and his naive dreams, wrapped up in the name Elafa. He almost winced.

“... You’re right. Yeah. If I went lookin’ for anyone again… I’d want that, for sure.”

“Of course I am right.” Tekēhu was confident. Edér wished he could be that young and naive again, assured of his place in the world. “Alone does not suit you. I do not think your heart was made for that.”

Edér hummed, now lost in thought. Tekēhu understood and merely smiled, clapped his back once more, and left him to it. 

The pain of knowing Elafa had passed was now little more than a splinter in his soul, only felt when reminded of it and pressing at the memories. He had felt guilty that he didn’t feel more, and guiltier still as he came to the reluctant conclusion that he loved her for what she represented, than as the woman she was. Gods, she’d deserved better; she had been right to turn down his ill-thought proposals.

She had represented a chance at the life he had expected to lead, but also to have a meaningful companion at his side. To have all the trappings of what passed for success in Dyrwood, his own land to labour on, but also someone who could labour with him, challenge him, love him, want him.

Maybe that was why he had really wanted a family, more than he had a real desire for children. To feel like he _belonged_ , even as he travelled the length and breadth of Eora.

But the bell could not be unrung, like the chime in a soul. He had seen so much. He knew he could not go back and live the simple life of a farmer after this; his life would chafe more than his hands ever would at harvest. He couldn’t settle down, not when he knew the gods were not done with him. What gentle farm-wife would put up with that?

What was it Tekēhu said? What he didn’t want, and what was left? He stayed for a long while, distilling his thoughts to their base conclusions.

He wanted companionship; his equal. He wanted to make a difference in the world. He wanted to see this, with the Watcher, through to the end.

He tipped the dregs of pipe-ash into the harbour. That was good enough for now. It would have to be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with Hylspeak for this chapter. This is also the chapter that brings up the content rating.

Rekke was getting a good grasp on Aedyran, and his sparring matches aboard The Defiant with Edér were a lot more fun, his taunts getting more creative by the day. Luckily, Edér was still the one better with a sword, though Rekke’s fast, exotic fighting style had taught him a new trick or two. Their bouts passed for the ship’s entertainment on the long days at sea. Serafen would often chip in with bawdy commentary that could get the whole crew laughing.

Even Aloth occasionally put down his books to watch, claiming the noise top deck prevented him from concentrating. Iselmyr occasionally added to the din her thoughts as a spectator, much to Aloth’s embarrassment and everyone else’s delight.

One especially hot, bright day, Edér realised he hadn’t spotted Xoti spying on him for a while. He and Rekke had both stripped to the waist for their last duel and there wasn’t a single blushing priestess in sight on deck.

He sat himself against one of the masts to get his breath back, envious of the other man’s youth as Rekke was already back on his feet, laughing at something Tekēhu had said. It had been a good fight, but had concluded in a draw when both parties were slipping in their own sweat and too exhausted to keep up technique.

He watched the world go by for a moment, chest still heaving. Rekke was clearly teasing Tekēhu about something, who answered this with sending up watery globes that shattered against the other man’s skin. Rekke was laughing and cursing in his native language.

He caught sight of Aloth out of the corner of his eye, who was giving him a peculiar look, but the elf looked away when their eyes met. Strange.

He was distracted by Serafen, who marched up to him, brisk and businesslike. “Up you get, lad, crew can’t work the mast with you there. Folk be getting all distracted with you two lounging around like a brothel’s offerings.”

Edér groaned, getting to his feet, and grabbed his shirt from nearby. “Do you know where’s Xoti hidin’?”

Serafen gave him an incredulous look and burst into a laugh. “With Maia. I wouldn’t go looking for either of them anytime soon,” he winked.

“What do you m- oh. Is she - they - wait, are they -” Edér already looked flushed, but the extra heat felt unbearable against his cheeks as he slowly got the gist, confirmed as Serafen looked at him as if he had just been picked up at sea.

“You’re a right few sails short of a clipper, lad.” Serafen shook his head, and marched off to rally the crew, shouting something about catching the wind. 

As Edér strolled across the deck, he wondered at how much he didn’t notice around him. It felt like yesterday that he had been fending off Xoti’s advances. He hadn’t expected that, for sure. Some Dyrwoodans could be disapproving about who you shared sheets with when the union wasn’t going to produce grandchildren, but Edér had never really cared one way or another, long as everyone was happy. Life was too short to discard the chance for happiness.

Xoti and Maia. Huh. He couldn’t say he’d have called that one. But still, the bubbly young Eothasian deserved some happiness, he thought. Gave him hope, too, that he might find an unlikely companion of his own some day.

He made his way to the bow, hoping to catch some of the salt spray to cool down with. He’d have asked Tekēhu to show off his watershaping skills like he’d done with Rekke, but… well, the two were now engaged in what looked like might be a minor squabble, in his eyes, with Rekke tugging on Tekēhu’s hair. He didn’t want to interrupt.

He saw Aloth stagger a bit towards the steps for below deck, and frowned. He hoped the other man hadn’t suddenly felt sea-sick.

Aloth felt sick alright, but not for the rock of the boat, and Iselmyr was not helping, fighting him with all her will as he swayed down the passageways in desperate search for someplace quiet, heart hammering in his chest.

_There’s nye harm in ha’in eyes!_

_No._

_Can ye least admit tae yeself that ye enjoyed seein’ him in half his glory?_

_No!_

Aloth slapped his palm firmly over his mouth, because his control was slipping and he could never guarantee the argument wouldn’t end up being aloud instead of in his head.

He threw himself behind one of the spare cannons, sliding to the floor and clutched at his robes with his free hand.

This was bad.

_Stupid, stupid!_ He berated himself. How had he not noticed before?

_T’only stupidity is yer scuttling off!_

He’d been watching Rekke and Edér’s fight, like he had so many times before. It wasn’t even the first time one or both of them had dispensed with shirts.

At some point, his focus had strayed from the swords to the musculature of Edér’s arms, his eyes drawn to his broad chest. A bead of sweat there had swelled, and slickly trailed down his pectorals, and his gaze, drawn, followed its progress.

He hadn’t realised he was staring, or how the heat he felt was not ambient, until a lot of blood migrated suddenly southward and he was able to correctly identify the unfamiliar feeling. Worse still was realising the feeling was not Iselmyr’s, but entirely his own.

He might have not panicked if it had been purely physical attraction. He did, as Iselmyr pointed out, have eyes, and there were plenty of attractive kith in Eora. His panic set in as his body recalled the sense-memory of those same arms and body wrapped around him, and the realisation that he didn’t just _want_ , he wanted… Edér. His stupid comments, his rueful grin, his boyish delight at the prospect of a new pet.

Iselmyr had been idling near the surface, as she always did in the presence of a good fight, and Aloth had no hope in hiding his shock from her, the heat that bloomed throughout his entire body as his mind stuttered, leaving him frozen in place and unable to tear his eyes away.

Where he felt horror at the realisation, Iselmyr found only delight, swelling to his awareness with glee. He hadn’t even been aware that he was - they both were - still staring when Edér had looked up and met his eye.

_Ye should’ve stayed! Whit’s t’matter wit ye?!_

Aloth had spent many years ignoring his desires in favour of books, and any occasional … inclinations that rose were ruthlessly quashed. Rarely, there would be someone kind and clever that would set a flicker alight in his chest, but he carefully resigned to avoid their company until any such feelings passed. Kindling fancies were easy to starve until the flames died. It seemed easier - less messy - than the alternative. But Edér was not some distant, abstract concept that he could apply logic against. He already knew the warmth of his hands and smile and voice. He already knew the warmth of his friendship.

_Ye actin’ like it’s the end o’ Eora, ha’in’ feelin’s fer someone._

He knew from his many years of reading that loneliness could lead people to form inappropriate attachments, and that someone of his profile, his many, many emotional defects, might inadvertently interpret friendly affection as… more. Pure body chemistry, incorrectly applied.

_Horseshit scholar-babble. It nye so complicated: ye like the man._

Edér was a friend - 

_Ay, and ‘e’d be more if ye_ -

\- a _friend_ , who had been in recent mourning -

\- _Fer a lass who got married, an’ ‘e ‘adn’t clapped eyes on in ten years!_ -

\- and most certainly was not attracted to men.

_Didnae stop ‘im goin’ in fer yer that one time nae, did it?_

“That was _you_!” Aloth yelled in frustration, mercifully muffled behind his hand, but out of his mouth nonetheless. His panic deepened. Not for the first time, he wished he had a room of his own aboard the ship.

_If ye’d stop yer flappin’ thoughts long enough tae listen_ -!

Aloth groaned, released his mouth to clutch at his skull. Iselmyr didn’t understand.

_I unnerstand more than ye think_ , her voice rang hot and accusing in his head, his thoughts and feelings no secret to her, not when they were so loud. _These matters, I conne more’n ye._

Aloth wanted to cry out, wanted to push her away to sift through his thoughts alone in the privacy of his mind, but something in her tone made him stop. 

It always went like this. They got along, until they didn’t. Then they fought each other furiously, Aloth’s head would ache for days, and they would be in a holding pattern until one or both of them was in a forgiving mood. Aloth had to admit the truth of her words: he knew nothing of this. Nor how to deal with what he was experiencing. 

Shaking, he let his hands slide from his skull, curled them into the hems of his tunic, and waited. 

The pain immediately receded as Iselmyr settled in the forefront of his thoughts, and she did not push them aside. He could feel her surprise, and her mollification. 

_Thank ye_. There was a pause, and Aloth imagined Iselmyr clearing her throat, testing he was listening. 

_First o’ all: I cannae be helpin’ ye when ye won’ le’ me_. Iselmyr sighed. _Whit was me larking wit’ Edér? Ye didnae let us conne it were hurtin’ ye. Ye keep yer thoughts n’ feels locked up tighter than an Eothasian’s chastity belt. Ye slipped the once, an’ I only go’ a glimpse o’ ye hurt. It were nye such a lark, having the conne o’ that. An’ I needed tae find a way o’ scuttling him off._

Aloth was stunned when he drew the conclusion. “So you ran that prank… to make Edér back off?” 

_An’ it worked, din’it?_ She was proud of herself. _He be a braw lad, but I didnae conne ye ‘ad a fancy fer him. Took longer to grasp tha’_. She tsked. _If ye le’ me in yer thoughts more, we’d nye have fought_. 

“I like some of my thoughts to stay private.” 

_Fye, bu’ I ‘ave t’live wit ye! If ye cannae open up a wee bit, lad, we’ll nere unnerstand t’other_. 

She was right. And they had agreed to work together more. Aloth knew why he had been so guarded on this particular matter: these feelings were new, they terrified him, and they made him feel far too vulnerable. 

_Ay, an’ I’ll forgive ye that_. Iselmyr sounded weary. _Jes’ dinnae make this a repeat o’ yer sproutin’ years_. 

Indeed. Adolescence was a period of Aloth’s life the two of them readily agreed they never wished to experience again. 

_An’ nae, words to the wise: it were gonnae hap sometime in ye life_ \- _dinnae argue!_ \- she flared up as Aloth’s thoughts turned to doubt. He winced, and tried to quieten his denials. 

_Thank ye. It were gonnae hap along, someone whit get ye breeches in a fine twist. Ye wouldn’ be kith if ye dinnae. Most everyone dae; ye’re not special. Oft’n too that them feelin’s not returned_. 

His heart pounded; he bit on his lower lip. 

_Ye’ve a better chance than most_. Iselmyr’s voice turned softer. _He connes the both o’ us, ye past dallying wit’e Lead Key. Ye’ve nowt left to hide from his eyes_. 

There was truth in that, but he was so _afraid_ \- 

_It nye easy, lad_. She was uncharacteristically gentle about it. _Ye risk yer body e’ryday. Takes a different bravery, this_. 

His panic receded slightly, Iselmyr having cut through his spiralling worries to the crux of the matter. He was still a mess, he still felt scared and small and strange. But Iselmyr was right: this was a set of feelings he had never faced, and not those she could face for him. The choice was all his. 

_Ay. Yers to make_. 

Relief turned his fingers to rubber, his grip slack on his robes. He’d feared that Iselmyr would impatiently blurt out everything to Edér herself. He wasn’t sure whether her words meant that she wouldn’t interfere entirely, but he was grateful for her support. 

_Not gonnae ruin yer chances. Would be grand fer ye to finally ge’ a good seein’ to, specially by such a strappin’ lad. Bet ‘e would conne how to make ye sing to a rooftop_. 

Aloth fought down a blush, feeling her grin. He rolled his eyes. 

“Alright. I’ll try not to conceal so much of... my feelings from you. But promise not to tell anyone, any of this.” 

_Deal, scholar-lad_. Iselmyr was back to her usual brisk manner. _Nae, finish yer flappin’ aboot, pick yeself up, an’ go fiddle in ye bunk an’ check it all works proper-like_. 

Aloth scoffed at Iselmyr’s priorities, but got up from his hiding place to find a better spot to think calmly through what to do with this new knowledge and the low-key sizzle in his veins. Decidedly _not_ in his bunk, despite what Iselmyr thought. 

He was later interrupted, to his surprise, by the crew summoning him to the deck on behalf of the Captain. The matter became clear as soon as he was handed the spyglass. The Watcher had found, however inadvertently, The Leaden Key sect he had been searching for. 

His heart skipped. Finally, finally, he would gain the answers he sought. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: discussion of suicide, from one of the possible endings of Pillars of Eternity.
> 
> This was, by far, the most difficult chapter to write.

For once, knowledge had failed to resolve Aloth’s problems, and had left him wavering on his path. Foolishly, he had thought he could change the world, breaking each and every link in the chain of the Leaden Key. Now that same chain seemed to yawn into a distance that he could not perceive, and he had to wonder if his choice was a prison shackle of his own making.

His faith was shaken.

If there had been anyone who could advise him what to do next, it was the Watcher. Aloth had planned to ask, suddenly plunged back into uncertainty and doubt all over again - but their conversation regarding Thaos aboard ship was cut short by the arrival of a Crookspur vessel, thinking them easy prey.

More pressing matters ensnared their Captain, and rightly so. The net result was that the Crookspur slavers would sail no more, and their blood-stained fortress now served as a warning to those who would run slaver ships from the Deadfire. Aloth was glad he had learnt a few cleaning cantrips in his time, or his robes would have never been the same.

There was no time for triumph - the Watcher had learned of the Vailian Trading Company’s involvement, and Aloth was glad to not have the weight of _those_ decisions on his shoulders. He would simply follow wherever was required.

In the end, the whole bloody mess galvanised the Watcher’s resolve to find Eothas: politics and war and tribal disputes would mean nothing if Eothas’ plans meant annihilation. The orders were given, grim and determined, that The Defiant would be heading to Magran’s Teeth.

Aloth knew the time to trouble their esteemed Captain had passed. He was on his own.

The dangers involved navigating the waters near Magran’s Teeth had the crew and its warriors on-edge, and as their course was charted towards Eothas, every person was suddenly aware of their fragile mortality. Aloth’s troubled silence went unnoticed by most.

Except for Edér. He knew the man too damn well by now. Conversations that begged for a dry, sarcastic comment didn’t stir Aloth’s tongue. Aloth spent more time alone than seemed possible on a ship of The Defiant’s size, but now he was doing so without his books: he was preoccupied, and not with his usual studies.

And it pained Edér to see, every time he caught sight of Aloth’s downturned mouth, the distance in his eyes. He knew Aloth was hurting, but not the reason why. He just found himself wanting to make Aloth smile - that small, private smile he had sometimes seen when they talked alone.

It seemed unlikely that Aloth would open up if he just asked, Edér knew that much. Edér wasn’t exactly a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he was willing to let it show, unarmoured, to those he trusted. Aloth? Aloth would sooner deny he had one than open himself up to ridicule. 

Edér knew he wasn’t a smart man, but he had picked up one or two elements of craftiness in his time, and thought he might have a way to approach his prickly friend. He was determined to do so - if Eothas decided to flatten them all upon arrival, he didn’t want to die with things unresolved.

Besides, without Aloth to trade wits with, Edér had far too much time to think. And he had started having things to think about, which he didn’t want to think too deeply about. Thinking was best left to the scholars: second-guessing was not Edér’s style. 

Stubbornness suited him better.

He carefully combed the sloop, not entirely surprised to find Aloth in his bunk with a small conjured flame dancing in his palm. Aloth was gazing into it absently. Even that small flicker showed how pale and wan he looked in its light.

“Aloth. Hey, Aloth.”

The elf stirred, and Edér noted the slowness of his movements. The warrior’s face creased into gentle lines of worry, and he was glad he had made his approach before, say, a call to battle was required. He took a deep breath. “I need your help with something.”

Aloth blinked, and visibly attempted to shake off his own preoccupation, and sat up a bit straighter, waving away the flame. “What with?” he asked, cautiously. 

“You said once, y’could help unravel my thoughts. Well, they’re real snarled up right now, and I could use your smarts.”

Edér gave what he hoped was his most charming smile, in the hopes it would lift Aloth’s mood. His smile wavered as Aloth’s made a strange face and turned his head away.

“.... Apologies. I’m not sure I am in the right frame of mind, but please, go on. I’ll try to assist.”

“Mm.” Edér knew he was stalling, and Aloth would see through it in seconds if he didn’t keep talking. “Well, uh. It’s… about catching up to Eothas. There’s a lot I want answers for.”

Edér settled down on the edge of the opposite berth. It was easy enough to tell the simple truth, start from there until he had warmed Aloth up to talk a bit without sounding like he was prying.

“Chances are though, I’m only gonna get to ask one or two of the more impertinent questions before I get smashed like a bug, so I wanna make ‘em count.”

Aloth turned back to him, eyes sharper, and for a moment, Edér could have believed things were back to normal. “You’re not going to get yourself killed.” Aloth’s voice was harsh. “So don’t talk that way.”

The vehemence in the other man’s speech caught Edér by surprise. He hadn’t intended on provoking a reaction, but it was interesting that it had. Maybe this was the sore spot that had Aloth so withdrawn? He frowned. He was realistic about his odds of survival when he confronted Eothas, and he had never thought Aloth to be irrational when it came to the frailty of kith against the gods.

“Eothas hasn’t exactly shown that our lives matter. Just because he’ll tolerate the Watcher don’t mean he’s going to take kindly to me when he and I have a talk. ”

Aloth’s eyes narrowed. “Then isn’t the obvious solution to keep your questions to yourself?”

Edér’s anger flared. Plan be damned. “Eothas damn well owes me answers.” How could Aloth not realise how important this was? He did not get to trivialise the blood that had been spilled, the sweat and the tears he had experienced as an Eothasian. These were not philosophical musings or a child’s demands. Edér needed to be _heard_.

In his ire, he flippantly threw the next sentence in a dark chuckle. “That is, if he doesn’t turn me into a soulless husk of ash, first. Seems like a recent tendency of his.”

Aloth’s expression did not change, and Edér stared him down. After a painful silence stretched out, Aloth’s voice came out, forced and tight. “Edér. Do not joke about throwing your life away around me.”

“I’m speaking plain,” Edér insisted.

“No, you’re talking about dying as a foregone conclusion,” Aloth snapped. “Don’t. If Eothas desires your destruction, then do not give him the chance to do so.” He leaned in, eyes blazing in surprising anger; if Edér were a different man, he might have actually felt scared instead of… uneasy? He felt _something_ , but he didn’t have the means to identify it, as Aloth continued, “you would not throw yourself onto a sword in a fight. Do not give the gods an undeserved privilege by offering them your life.”

“Heh. You sound like Pallegina,” Edér drawled, because it was easier to provoke Aloth than acknowledging the uncomfortable stone-weight that had just lodged in his chest.

“Stop this,” Aloth hissed, furious, suddenly on his feet and rounding on him. “If you think you’re being funny, you’re not.”

Edér was brought up short. He was missing something, here. Aloth wasn’t angry about his questions, he was angry about… the idea of Edér’s life at stake? But wasn’t that always the case, with the lives that they led?

He tried to calm down, blew out a long breath. “Aloth. These questions - I have to make Eothas hear me, one way or another. They’re gonna eat me up inside if I don’t. I don’t have a death wish, but - I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I faced my god and said nothing.”

Silence filled the space. Aloth’s anger noticeably subsided, and suddenly he noticed how much he was crowding Edér’s space, stepping back to his bunk to sit, expression turning troubled. Edér realised that his friend had thought he intended to die at Magran’s Teeth. It was an unusually premature conclusion for Aloth to go shouting about.

“Sorry I made you mad. I got a lot of Eora to see yet. I’m seeing this through to the end, no fear,” he said, firmly. Then, with humour, wanting to lighten the mood, “I’m lettin’ the Watcher do most of the talking. Chances are by the time Eothas gets to me he’ll be all warmed up to conversation.”

Aloth still looked sullen. Edér tried a smile, though it struggled its way onto his face. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“I do care, thank you, but that’s not why I am furious with you.” Edér was so stunned by this admission that he was silent to allow Aloth to continue, “If it were not for you and the Watcher, I - I would not be here.”

Aloth met Edér’s gaze, and swallowed back his fear. No regrets, Edér had said. He did not plan to have any, either.

“That day in Gilded Vale, surrounded by angry folk - I knew it was only a matter of time until my luck ran out. I only hoped for it to be painless. If not for the Watcher - if I had not met you - I would have returned my soul to the Wheel myself. You -” Aloth struggled to speak as his throat seemed to close on him. “I will _not_ allow you to feel as I did.”

Edér stared. He would have said the elf was being overdramatic, but he could see for himself that Aloth was serious. His body prickled, a sudden chill throughout. Aloth would have - 

Aloth. What would this crazy adventure have been like without Aloth?

He swallowed. “You never said.”

“Why would I?” Aloth countered, looking down at his lap, fists clenched tightly there. “I was hardly your problem. I was your enemy. A minor and unimportant one, but I was Leaden Key and by all rights, my life was forfeit. I knew I was running on borrowed time since my Awakening, for so long…” he bit his lip, trying to force down the tremble in his voice, “When I told the truth, I was fully prepared to be rejected. I am - I am wholly glad I was not.”

He drew in a deep breath, and looked up. “I want to live. And -” his anger had propelled him through this confession, but Edér’s horrified expression was making him fall back on old defenses. “ - I am sorry,” he said quickly. “For… jumping to an incorrect conclusion, regarding your request. I - “

“Don’t,” Edér cut him off, and grabbed his hand, suddenly, as if fearing the other man would bolt. “Hel, Aloth, I don’t - that’s - I never realised. Gods.”

“I didn’t intend to share that,” Aloth said hurriedly, eyes dropping along with his stomach where Edér’s warm, calloused palm had closed over his fist. “An overreaction on my part. Please forget about it.”

“I can’t. And I won’t,” Edér said, simply. His eyes were bright, studying Aloth’s like he was puzzling him out. Aloth swallowed, unable to break his gaze. He could feel Edér’s thumb, sweeping over the back of his hand, an unconscious soothing gesture, and his traitorous subconscious made him heat, considering its alternative meanings.

It took a few moments for Aloth to find his voice, and modulate it to something approaching normal. “Then I only ask that you do not treat me differently. I no longer feel as such. It was a long time ago.”

Edér scrutinised him, but accepted the truth of his words. 

“Alright.” A little too lightly, a little too cautiously. It was a lot to take in.

“I - I apologise,” Aloth said, after an uncomfortable pause. “You came to ask for my advice.”

“Forget it,” Edér said, and realised he was still holding Aloth’s hand. He let go, and abandoned all pretense at subtlety. “What’s gotten _you_ all upset that you’re back to bein’ quiet in corners round the ship?”

Aloth flinched. His scripted arguments were all ready: that he was doing no such thing, or he didn’t need company, or why not mind your own business. All as well-worn as his travelling boots. But…

Edér was not his first choice for discussing his problems. Putting aside these new and terrifying feelings regarding the other man, Edér was not philosophically-minded. Or, well. Anything-minded, really.

He was being slightly unfair, he knew. Edér would never have survived a day at the Academy, but he was the first person to think to charter a ship to the Deadfire when the Watcher was incapacitated. To keep a clear head in a crisis was a kind of intelligence that Aloth could respect. After all, Aloth tended to - quite literally - lose his mind. However, this was not a problem that Iselmyr was interested in resolving.

He had already blurted out one tightly-held secret to the man, and hadn’t been rejected. It might be safe to disclose another.

“The Wahaki,” he said, finally, and it felt like such a relief to just say it. “What we learned about the tribe. And Thaos.”

Edér looked surprised, but he remained quiet, giving that kind of half shrug as if to say, go on.

Aloth explained the Watcher’s vision, and Edér listened intently. Aloth had no idea whether he understood the significance, but the expression on his face was serious - astonishingly so. Aloth had no idea Edér was capable of it.

“... I've been chasing the Leaden Key, trying to undo the harm they've caused. But what if I’m only making matters worse? Might I be to blame? Have I -”

“- Hey. That’s enough.” Edér interrupted, voice firm. “You’re thinking about this too much.”

“I think that I am thinking about this exactly the right amount,” Aloth returned acidly.

“Of course you’d think that.” Edér barely managed not to roll his eyes, and it was because his affection for the other man won out against his amusement. “Let’s wind this back some.”

Aloth glared, but waited as Edér scratched at his beard and frowned in thought before he next spoke. “So you wanna carry on breaking up what’s left of Thaos’ work, but you’re worried that you’re makin’ mistakes. Big ones.”

“Yes,” Aloth said slowly, not sure where this was going, or if Edér just needed to repeat what he’d just said aloud in simpler words.

“Well gee, Aloth, if we all stopped gettin’ outta bed each morning because we might get things wrong, folk would get nothing done. If I ain’t screwed something up by the end of the day, I call it a good day. And yeah, dismantlin’ the Leaden Key is a good thing, but. My ma always said you crack a few eggs in makin’ an omelette. Don’t mean you screwed up. It’s just part of makin’ an omelette.”

“But I don’t have… an omelette… to show for my efforts,” Aloth said, pained at using the metaphor. “I don’t know if what I am creating is… worse than if I had let it be.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Edér said, easily. “Sure, things will go wrong. And people won’t act the way you plan for. But it won’t be your fault.”

“But if I’m responsible for instigating it -”

“Would it have been better if you n’ I had stayed in Gilded Vale and not followed the Watcher?” Edér said abruptly.

Aloth scowled. “That’s not the same.”

“It’s exactly the same.” Edér leaned forward on his arms. “Sure, we weren’t calling the shots, we were just following along. But we still took part in those decisions by choosing to be there at all. I think bein’ there, we did more good than harm.”

“Yes, but we had good leadership. I know I am not a good leader. Good intentions are not enough. Thaos thought -”

“You’re not Thaos.” Edér said, simply.

“No. But Thaos thought he was doing the right thing. I thought - I thought I was. What if -”

“I _know_ you.” Edér insisted.

“You said before that you don’t.” Aloth pointed out.

“Well - yeah! When we found you, you were pretendin’ to be a whole other person.”

“An unfortunate necessity.”

“But you don’t have to keep doing it!” Edér shook his head. “I get why you felt you had to walk out and fix things. And it sounds like you’ve been makin’ headway. But after everything that happened, after making peace with Iselmyr, I thought you might spend some time, you know, actually bein’ you? If there’s anything I don’t like about how you’ve been spending your years fixin’ the Leaden Key, it’s that.”

“I’m so glad to have your feedback on my methods,” Aloth said icily, “but that is not the issue.”

“It’s the bit I take issue with, though.” Edér was unfazed. “You’re worried about becoming Thaos. You want to drag The Leaden Key into the light. But you’re doin’ it from the dark. Havin’ to hide who you are. And Iselmyr. I don’t know, Aloth. I think your mission is worthwhile, but...” Edér trailed off, trying to find the words.

Aloth was trying to make amends for his past, he understood that much. Yet it didn’t feel right. Knowing he’d always sleep lightly, to constantly fear being discovered. To be friendless. How long could any kith keep going for, all alone?

Edér didn’t want that. He could vaguely imagine the end of their business with Eothas, all of them ready to part ways, but before he could give Aloth his fond goodbyes, the elf would slip off, determined, afraid, and with no end or comfort in sight…

His expression hardened, and he gave Aloth the full weight of his glare. “You ain’t gotta put yourself through this.”

Aloth looked at the floor. “It’s atonement.”

“Is it?” Edér said, his voice low. Aloth looked up, raising one eyebrow. “It sounds more like you’re punishing yourself.”

“I’m trying to make things right!”

“Way I see things, you’re doin’ far more good here out with the Watcher than you are skulkin’ in the shadows.”

Aloth looked like he’d been slapped. “Are you saying my work is pointless?”

“No!” Edér said, with force. “I’m just saying you don’t have to keep doing it! There are other things that you can do, that’ll hurt the Leaden Key all the same, where you don’t gotta hide all the time!”

Aloth stared.

Edér was not wrong. The path the Watcher was on would unravel the lies of the gods, one by one, without having to touch the Leaden Key directly. Edér’s suggestion seemed almost too good to be true. It had been wonderful, five years ago, and again now, to not have the burden of working alone. It was a shock to realise it was possible.

The greater shock was realising that Edér wanted him to be happy. Hiding was all Aloth knew, but in this, Edér was right: aboard The Defiant, with the Watcher at the helm, Aloth didn’t have to clutch on tightly to so many secrets. Everyone in their inner circle knew enough of his past and his flaws and of his Awakened soul, and still, he was allowed to be here. After this was all over, assuming they all survived, the Watcher might very well have some new use for his skills. 

What would it be like - to set down the idea of destroying the Leaden Key, for good?

His stomach twisted, immediately made uneasy by the unknown. It seemed too simple - simple enough that Edér had come up with it. And yet he had. Did that mean -

“Are you…” Aloth licked his lips nervously. “Are you saying - when this is over, you don’t want me to leave?”

Edér glared at him. “Well. Yeah!”

Aloth looked stunned.

So did Edér, as he worked through the implications of what he had just said. It felt right. He just hadn’t realised he’d wanted that, either. To keep following the Watcher, that had kind of been on his mind, but he hadn’t realised he wanted Aloth there, too.

Aloth noticed, but didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t ask - he’d already revealed far more than was comfortable today and didn’t trust his tongue.

“I… I still don’t quite know what I’ll decide. But. Thank you.” Aloth found the knots in the floorboards fascinating once more. He shored up his remaining courage, even as the tips of his ears burned. “I return the sentiment.”

Edér made no reply, because he knew he’d somehow say the wrong thing. _Aloth wants to stay_. He felt fuzzy-headed when he tried to think about it, so… he resolved not to think about it.

“I, uh.” Edér tried to remember what they were talking about, feeling wrongfooted. “Did… that help, at all?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Aloth closed his eyes. He felt a lot of things, and he felt too exposed, this close to Edér. He retreated at once behind his shields of politeness, and opened his eyes. “Thank you for your time. I’d like some time to consider matters further.” _Alone_ , went unsaid, but Edér took the mile-wide hint from Aloth’s change of tone.

“You’re welcome, I guess.” Edér was just as relieved to have a reason to leave the suddenly-too-close confines of the berth. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Aloth watched him go, and let out a long, slow breath.

_Tha’s more trowth than I think I ever hear ye spake_.

Aloth didn’t disagree. It was terrifying.

_Yet good too, ay?_

“That remains to be seen.”

_Fye, jes’ enjoy them fluttery-feels for a few moments, ye joyless lad_.

And he did, with the smallest of smiles.


	7. Chapter 7

Fire. Screams. Silence.

The Watcher remained unconscious, The Defiant sailing without its Captain’s voice back to Neketaka. Different vessels ran alongside it as unspoken escorts, all eyes upon the tiny sloop. There was not a power in the Deadfire that did not want to know what had transpired.

Xoti was shaking like a leaf, muttering to herself for most of the journey, Maia never too far from her side. Serafen was remarkably quiet. Pallegina seemed unaffected, but spent more time than usual whetting her blade, eyes dark and focussed on some unseen enemy. 

Edér was running low on whiteleaf, and Neketaka was still many leagues away. He had stayed above deck to smoke, leaning on the bulwark, staring into the sea. He hadn’t spoken much. He was doing a little better than some of the others in reconciling what they’d seen - Edér had been there when everything went to hell at Caed Nua - but he had been _heard_. By his _god_.

Even if what his god was _doing_ \- what his god had _done_ -

He felt so alone. The foundations of everything he had ever known, understood, had truly collapsed around him. Shock had blasted the already crumbling tower of his self apart, and he was sitting silently on the ship’s deck, pipe hanging loosely in his mouth as he sifted through the rubble in his mind, trying to make sense of it.

He was not Edér: devout Eothasian. Or Dyrwood farmer. Or hero in the Saint’s War, or any other label he cared to apply. Who was he?

It forced him to be honest with himself. He was not a father, or a husband. He wanted to set Bearn on the right path, but he knew in his heart he could no longer bear to have more reminders of the Eothasian family he had once been part of. He needed to move on, and he would help Bearn do the same. He would support the young man, but it would be more as a patron, a far-off Uncle who could be called upon, but was not often in the neighbourhood.

_Will that do, Elafa?_ He wondered.

She had been fond of him, but he could imagine her scrunched nose and frustrated sigh. _When are you going to get over the idea of me?_

The old Edér would have protested never, all false gallantry to go with the false image and false life he’d dreamed up. Reality was a gutpunch: she was a fling in the old times, not his soulmate.

_Who would I follow until the turn of the Wheel?_

Two answers tripped over each other in his brain: the Watcher being one. The Watcher was someone that Edér was fond of, but never more than that: their relationship was some strange mix of a parent and child, a sage and student, a master and apprentice. That mix, like the old Goldilocks tale, was just right.

The other was Aloth.

Except that _wasn’t_ quite right.

Aloth and the Watcher weighed differently in his heart. He wouldn’t follow Aloth, not like that. If he did, it would be to chase the elf down, exasperated by his insistence of doing everything alone, and bring him back by his side. He enjoyed their bickering, but also those moments where Aloth let his guard down, and let affection bleed through. Fondness flooded him in memory of those times. He admired the other man’s dry wit and steadfastness and strength in battle. He wanted it, always.

Wanted what?

Another memory prickled down his spine, following the thread of his thoughts.

An equal.

Someone who could labour with him, challenge him, love him, want him.

Want him?

He didn’t, did he? A whirlwind swirled the detritus of his thoughts. They were barely friends, he had never wanted to kiss him - no, wait, he had, but that was Iselmyr, surely that wasn’t - or hold him - no, wait, that was not true either, he had - he had never liked men. That was definitive.

It was only here, finding himself, that reflexive denial no longer acted as a wall to the idea. A couple of bricks still held together, but were falling apart under examination. Edér ruthlessly pulled them apart. If everything else he ever knew did not stand, then why should this be any different?

He let himself consider it.

A gently smiling Aloth, standing close beside him on deck, hair caught in the breeze. Fingers caught coquettishly behind one long, slender ear, eyes half-lidded - 

No. He recoiled at the very thought, and broke that apart, too. This was exactly what he had done to Elafa, made a fiction that matched a so-called ideal. He tried again.

A gently smiling Aloth, looking a little less careworn, standing beside him on deck. A small inclination of his head an invitation to step in closer. Tense, but determined. While he still could not make sense of what it was that drew him in, he slipped a hand to Aloth’s jaw, feeling his pulse jump, and took a kiss, that this time was met with hesitance, all Aloth, without Iselmyr -

Oh.

The bloom of heat in his belly - warm, even though the rest of his body still felt numb - was an answer in itself, if not all the thoughts that followed.

Sure, he’d always thought Aloth was attractive, in the abstract way he was sure many humans thought of elves. However he knew from experience Aloth was no pretty little fey-like; the cut of his tongue and his glare were as good as a blade. Edér had always admired and been amused by Aloth’s wit, but now he was following that admiration to its conclusion, and yes: he did want Aloth, all of him, with his sharp angles and long silences and Aedyran manners and his dedication to thick, unreadable tomes. Hel, maybe a little bit of affection would thaw the icy-blue of his eyes, soften him just enough that Edér could slip a hand into his hair, feel whether it was as silky-soft as it looked…

Oddly enough, the thought of more than that, while appealing, also made him nervous. He’d never been with a man, but he suspected that neither had Aloth. His gut instinct told him that Aloth wasn’t one to dive headfirst into anything, let alone relationships. That suited him, given the newness of these feelings. He’d be happy with something slow.

Day-dreaming was nice. Better than sifting through the devastation, or facing what was yet to come, but Edér set this new truth aside. He had never had feelings for a man before, but here he was: as wrong in this as everything else in his life. His feet itched to move against the urge to take action. He’d always done better taking action than thinking. He shoved down that instinct. He needed to be _sure_ before he wrecked a friendship for good.

After all, it was unlikely Aloth would be interested, and he could equally imagine the scorn he might receive. Except… well, that was no longer true, either. Perhaps five years ago, or at their initial reconnection he’d have earned a baffled look and a dismissive comment, but they had something stronger now. No, Aloth would be polite in making his rejection. But he’d also likely seek distance from him again. Was the truth worth that?

Was he even going to get the chance to say anything? They had survived by Eothas’s grace, but it was clear what their path was, as soon as the Watcher was awake. _If_ the Watcher awoke…

Suddenly time itself felt compressed, squeezing the air from his lungs in realisation of how little he had.

He remembered the last desperate moments at Magran’s Teeth, caught in the breadth of Eothas’s palm, wondering whether he was going to die by flame, by tidal storm, or the crush of enormous fingers. He’d caught sight of Aloth’s face then, determined and pale against the luminous adra, naked terror in his eyes.

His mind was suddenly made up. Yes, it was worth letting Aloth know that someone cared about him. 

He had no plan, no idea what he was going to say, but reckless bravery spurred his steps. If he could face Eothas, then he could do this much. He weaved his way below deck unimpeded, trying to find where Aloth had hidden himself. He was not in his bunk, nor near any of the other berths. He looked around, not wanting to call for him and attract undue attention. Finally, he spied him: tucked between two of the cannons, sitting with his knees drawn up, arms holding them tight to his frame, and a tired expression on his face. He looked like he had been fighting to exhaustion, but there had been no further battles since leaving Magran’s Teeth.

“Hey.” Edér greeted him to get his attention, but didn’t expect Aloth to stiffen when he noticed his presence.

“Edér?” Aloth’s eyes flickered over him, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was there. “Are you alright?”

“Ain’t none of us are,” Edér answered, truthfully. “But I’m not here askin’ for help.”

“Then if you do not require me urgently, please - leave me be,” Aloth said, looking away.

Edér frowned. “We need ta talk.”

“Not now, please,” Aloth muttered to the ship’s hull.

Edér wanted to protest that there might not be another time, but something wasn’t right. “You look tense.”

Aloth clutched the robes around his knees all the tighter. “An excellent observation. Now please, make them elsewhere.”

“Aloth.” Edér felt his heart clench at his friend’s obvious distress. “You ain’t gotta fight all your battles alone.”

“This does not require a sword-arm, it requires solitude.”

“Look,” Edér sighed, “I know why you feel this way, and it’s alright.”

Aloth deigned to turn and face him, studying his face for a moment. “Enlighten me.” His voice was flat.

“Everything with Eothas - suddenly, we’re lookin’ at a literal end-of-the-world scenario. And the Watcher’s down, and we’re surrounded by a buncha hostile ships who all have designs on where Eothas is heading. It’s an ugly situation and I sure as hell don’t feel up to dealin’ with it, and that’s all I’ve worked out without having a brain like yours. You probably already worked out plenty more things to worry about. But it won’t do you good to sit there and worry about it all by yourself.”

Much to Edér’s surprise, a trembling laugh came from Aloth’s lips, some of the tension slipping from his shoulders. The elf bowed his head deeply to his knees, as if trying to gather the strength to go on. Edér waited. The slightly down-turned tips of his ears spoke of continued distress. When Aloth finally looked up, his expression was schooled into composure once more.

“I appreciate your concern, but it is unwarranted. I accept the journey ahead will be difficult, but the path is clear enough. I am worried about the Watcher, as we all are, but…”

“Then what is it?”

“I cannot talk about this with you,” Aloth said, clipped, but not quite concealing the note of despair. “Please, just go.”

Edér had to admit, it stung a little that after all this time, Aloth thought he couldn’t trust him with whatever it was that weighed on his soul.

“I can’t, not ‘til you least let me know why you’re suffering. I ain’t seen you like this since - ” Edér stopped short of mentioning the Sanitarium. “ - in a long time. Please.”

“Can you not take a simple instruction?” Edér knew the defense mechanism well by now: Aloth became snappish, haughty, and sarcastic when he wanted to push others away.

“Nope, never was good at abandonin’ a friend when told to,” Edér responded with dark cheer, and sat himself down beside Aloth, effectively trapping his escape. It was a challenge and a promise: one of them would out-stubborn the other, and Edér fancied his chances.

Aloth’s silence was loaded when he turned his gaze away once more. At least he didn’t try to actually run, perhaps sensing it was futile, though Edér did briefly wonder what silent cantrips Aloth knew. He was reminded of when Aloth had stayed with him, when he was still full of anger and grief after finding out about Elafa. Gods, did that feel like another lifetime ago.

He eyed the elf for a few moments more. Was this a bad time to say anything?

_There might not be another time_. That was why he was here at all.

“There’s something I wanted to tell ya. Not sure I’ll get the opportunity otherwise.”

Aloth made no movement, no sign he was listening. Edér hesitated, losing some of his nerve. Even Aloth’s most withering glare would be more preferable than this.

_And yet, I’m fond of him. Gods help me_.

He cleared his throat, once again wishing he had whiteleaf to spare. “I know you’re pretty mad at me right now, so this ain’t the greatest of times, but I’d like to at least want you to know this, and maybe think about it. You’re good at that. Me, heh, not so much. It sometimes takes me longer to work things out, and I’m, uh, kinda hopin’ I this ain’t too hard for you to hear. You’re real important to me. I always did care about you a little too much, but I didn’t let myself think about how I did. And I really don’t want to screw this up, so maybe I was a little scared, too.” Edér chuckled nervously. “Okay, cards on the table here: I’m sayin’, I’m fond of you. And if you wanted - only if you wanted mind, I like what we’ve got goin’ - I’d like if we could maybe be more. Uh…” 

Edér struggled, wanting to follow up with reassurances, but having no clue what the other man needed to hear. “... What do you think?”

“Don’t mock me.”

Edér expected rejection. He did not expect to hear pain underlying Aloth’s voice. It was one thing to be rejected because the feelings were not returned, but Aloth sounded like he didn’t believe it were possible at all.

“I’m not. Is it really that far-fetched an idea, that someone might be fond of you? Because that Ymir sure was.”

“Ymir wasn’t fond of me,” Aloth said derisively, with such force that Edér could almost believe everything was as normal. “He liked my features, my clueless naivete, and the resultant product of his own imagination. He never knew me.”

“I know you,” Edér said, quietly.

“Edér, please, if this is a joke - if this is -”

“Ain’t a joke. Would you turn round?” Edér wanted to see his face, to make him see the truth.

Aloth shook his head. It took him several deep breaths before he could reply - Edér was sure a few of those breaths were Iselmyr - and his words were barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid to.”

It twisted Edér’s heartstrings to hear that. “S’alright. You don’t have to work up to turnin’ me down, if that’s your worry. I like to think we’re friends and can stay that way. I won’t bring it up again if -”

“Why?” The word suddenly burst from Aloth, one of his hands unclenching from his robes and clutching in his hair instead. “This doesn’t make sense. You - you like women!”

“... Yeah?” Edér blinked. “I do. I also like you.”

“It - it hardly seems probable. That you would suddenly…”

“Well it hardly seemed _probable_ that Eothas would rise outta the earth we walked on, but here we are,” Edér retorted in a snap, losing patience. He gathered himself with a sigh. “Sorry. Just - can you accept that I mean it, and then… let it go, or be mad at me, or whatever it is you need to do? I promise, I can take it.” He meant it.

Aloth finally turned around. He _did_ look afraid, but also determined, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes met Edér’s, making the man catch his breath in their intensity.

“This isn’t about _her_.” It was a question, even Edér could work out that much.

“No. All you.”

Aloth’s face flickered through several strange expressions, settling on something guarded, but hopeful. It was a surprise when one of Aloth’s hands reached to his jaw, and a relief when Aloth leaned in, albeit cautiously, and pressed a dry kiss onto his lips. Edér didn’t dare react, thinking of a fawn in the wood that would spook if he moved.

When Aloth pulled back, it was not to their previous distance.

“I have avoided any... entanglements, for most of my life. With good reason.” Aloth maintained eye contact, gauging Edér’s reaction.

Edér nodded, hardly daring to breathe, voice softer than usual when he replied. “I get that. Iselmyr. And everything else.”

Aloth still looked wary. “I therefore lack the experience in these matters that is usual for my age.” Only then did his gaze drop to one side, continuing reluctantly, “I might not be able to meet your expectations.”

“Who said I had any? Hey,” Edér protested. He risked reaching out, a few fingers cupping Aloth’s chin to gently steer Aloth’s face back to his. “I gave this a whole lotta thought, alright?”

There was a time Aloth would have said nothing, and even if he had, Edér was more inclined to roughhouse his way through the situation with jokes. Here and now, Edér appreciated the candor. He could work with that. 

“This is new for me, too. And I’m pretty happy with, you know, figuring out what's comfortable. For us.” Edér gave his best impression of a nonchalant shrug. “If you’d like there to be an ‘us’.”

Something in those words made Aloth’s mouth slowly twitch up into a soft smile that made Edér a tiny bit giddy. “I would like that.”

Edér couldn’t help it then. With the dark hours spent and the dark days ahead, this was a light, a tiny spark, and he claimed it with his lips over Aloth’s. His own kiss also held the hesitance of something new, slow and gentler than with any of his more casual encounters, but it felt right, and righter still when one of Aloth’s arms wound around his neck and held him there. It reminded him of his first kiss in good ways: the butterflies and thrill in the uncertainty, though definitely less messy.

When he let their lips finally break, he was quietly delighted by Aloth’s soft, involuntary sigh, and that Aloth’s eyes were closed. The fine lines of tension that usually marked his features were almost gone, making him look so much younger, guileless, and - well, beautiful. Edér couldn’t think of any other word for it. As Aloth’s eyes slowly opened again, they were soft and unguarded. Edér felt privileged to be able to see him like this.

“Good?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Aloth looked a little faraway still, but as he gathered himself, a gentle smile curved his lips. “Yes.” Even his voice was soft.

Edér leaned in, hopeful to kiss him again, and this time Aloth met him halfway. Emboldened, he looped an arm around Aloth’s waist and let his other hand cup the curve of his jaw as they tried out soft, innocent-enough kisses, Edér not wanting to push. He knew Aloth would push himself, likely as not. Already he could sense the way the other man was gaining confidence, liking the feel of his fingers gently scratching into one side of his beard. He let out a low and rumbling noise of approval.

At this, Aloth slowly wound the kiss down, and pulled back. He looked a delight, with pink dusting his high cheekbones to match his lips.

“I feel I must apologise, for trying to force you to leave, earlier,” Aloth said, suddenly. “I was worried that you would notice that I…” He licked his lips, subconsciously. Edér tried to concentrate on what he was saying. “...also felt a certain affection for you. I wasn’t sure I could successfully hide it under the circumstances, and I was unsure of what your reaction would be.”

“As it turns out, pretty good,” Edér said, trying not to grin like the village idiot.

“An’ he was ninnyin’ like it were a death sentence!” Iselmyr suddenly cackled, unable to hold in her mirth. Her laughter trailed off as Aloth looked irked for her outburst. “Yes. Well. I feared the worst.” Aloth smiled, but weakly. “We’ve had much of it to fear, lately.”

“Mm.” Edér’s smile faded away, because it was true. “We gotta keep hope. S’all we got.” 

_And maybe each other_. He didn’t dare say it aloud: it still felt too new and fragile to voice. He changed the subject.

“Hearin’ Iselmyr just then… this all okay with you both? You and me, I mean.”

Aloth shrugged. “She’s… supportive,” he said, and Edér sensed there was more to it than that. “Which doesn’t mean she’s going to be any better behaved, I warn you in advance.”

Edér nodded, edging towards his actual concern. “I mean, I like to think I know by now when you’re you, and not her, but…”

Aloth suddenly understood. “Ah. Rest assured, we’ve agreed that there won’t be a repeat of that incident. And Iselmyr is rarely quiet about when she’s in charge.”

Iselmyr promptly appeared in Aloth’s eyes, addressing Edér with all her usual tact. “Nye fear, I’m stayin’ put when yer get tae knockin’ boots.”

Aloth glared with annoyance through his blush. “Yes. Well. That.”

Edér was relieved. “Long as I know, and I ain’t hurtin’ either of you.”

“Nye ta worry, I’m a tough lass,” Iselmyr answered, reassuringly, the only reason Aloth let her do so. “But be gentle with the lad, Edér.” Then she grinned, eyes twinkling mischievously. “But not too gentle, ay?”

Aloth dismissed her with a scowl. “I think you get an idea of what you’re in for.”

“Eh, I’ve done worse than you,” Edér said with a grin.

“Just what I’ve always wanted to hear.” Aloth deadpanned, but fighting a smile.

They both jumped as one of the crew walked past the cannons, realising that while one person was inconspicuous there, two were not. Edér stood, and held out a hand to tug Aloth to his feet also. Aloth took it, and the feel of his hand enclosed in his own made his heart sing.

“So you know all the good hidin’ places on this ship,” Edér remarked, casually.

Aloth blinked, and then caught his meaning. Aloth’s playful expression was nothing like Iselmyr’s, and Edér was immediately enamoured by it. “Not as many as you might think. At least, not that would fit two people.”

“That’s a real shame.”

“Isn’t it?” Aloth’s smile had been dry, but it vanished to the sound of shouts and heavy footfalls above. They had to be getting close to port.

“Watcher’s still not up,” Edér muttered, “and I don’t think a good slap’s gonna work this time.” His expression turned grim. “Given a choice between Eothas and the politicians, I know which I’d rather face.”

“Then we’ll just have to stall them. They don’t know what happened. We can buy ourselves some time…”

Or at least, that had been Aloth’s hope. As the ship pulled into Neketaka, it was clear that time would not be granted. They were boarded at once in a flurry, the Captain’s quarters breached. While the body was unconscious, the mind clearly was not.

“Eothas is going to Ukaizo… he’s going to stop the Wheel… Eothas is…”

It was a mantra and a fever-dream, but it caused more than enough of an uproar to have all of them escorted up to the Palace without delay.

“... stop the Wheel… Eothas is going to Ukaizao…”

There was no concealing the truth from the assembled factions of the Deadfire. They were out of time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, reader, for staying until the end. <3

And then, it was done.

How did any of the mortal powers think that they could contest a god?

Aloth thought of all the history books, the epics and the biographies he had read over the years, and wondered what the book that covered the destruction of the Wheel would read like. Whether history and kith would judge them kindly for the decisions they were forced to make. The blood on their hands.

The news was being spread throughout the Deadfire; on the backs of the Vailians and Rauataians it would soon spread across Eora. Every power had its plots and designs in the absence of Ondra’s Mortar, but that was beyond their purview. The Watcher was ready to return to Caed Nua, and fix what was broken.

Aloth doubted it would be a quiet retirement. Who would not seek out the advice of the former Herald of Berath, who witnessed the Wheel undone? Now more than ever, kith needed a champion. He also suspected that when Caed Nua was fully thriving once more, its Watcher would look out on the world, and would want to be part of the solution.

Aloth hoped to follow. Knowledge truly would be power in this new age, and he hoped to help empower kith to find it.

He admittedly also looked forward to spending less time on a ship.

As he walked into the docks at Queen’s Berth, he gazed up at The Defiant. There had been good times aboard, certainly, but he hoped this would be his last journey by sea for a while. A little peace and quiet would be good. He was ready to be alone for a while.

 _Nae dinnae ye be thinkin’ that_.

He wished he shared her optimism. 

Before they reached port at Neketaka, Edér had suddenly requested to talk to him in private.

“There’s somethin’ I need to do,” he had said, and Aloth had nodded, resigned to the fact it had all seemed too easy. He had half-expected it. The words came in-and-out of focus as he schooled his emotions: Edér wanted to go to Hasongo, check on Bearn, and make some sort of peace with himself and his faith amongst the Dawnstars while helping them to rebuild. He’d be back, he just needed some time, and he couldn’t do it while in the crosshairs of the Queen, the Vailians, and the Rauataian navy.

And so Aloth had smiled politely. Of course it was for the best if Edér left, of course he didn’t mind. He was the very picture of demure understanding, and Edér had smiled at him, one of those beatific smiles and kissed him. It physically hurt, as tender as it was: Aloth tried not to think about how it meant goodbye.

“Thank you,” Edér had murmured against his lips. “I’ll see you on the way home.”

Aloth knew better than to hold onto false hope. Surely, once he set foot amongst his fellow Eothasians… with the boy he wanted to call a son… with a farm and a future, somewhere he could belong… Aloth doubted Edér would join them on the long journey back to the Dyrwood.

His duty was first to the Watcher, with or without Edér, and so he knew where he needed to be.

He boarded The Defiant for the long voyage home. He watched Neketaka shrink into the distance, lost in thought for a while. He finally went below deck, deciding to better lose himself in a book.

The ship no longer rang out with song, a different mood in the air now they were returning home, operating on a much smaller crew. It was only when land was in sight and the cries to get the ship docked filled the air that Aloth shut the book he was reading, and made his way above. He settled against the bulwark facing inland, watching the crew noisily make berth. Crates and barrels were brought above, and he knew best to stay still and out of their way.

He looked over towards the Hasongo lighthouse. Eothas’ footprints were still visible, though smoothed by tide and rain. He followed the skyline to the docks, and then he caught sight of them: Edér and Bearn, half-jogging along the pier to greet the crew. As they grew closer, Aloth could see the boy in Edér’s shadow with that idolising look only a young person could give, Edér smiling back at him with affection. He watched Edér stop to ruffle his hair and give him a one-armed hug - a pack slung over one shoulder - and lean in to tell him something. With all the noise, he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked like Edér was either telling him to stay out of trouble... or to make sure he created some.

Aloth waited, anxious for how their reunion might play out. It was no good having a principle and not believing in it. He wanted kith to have freedom to choose, even when those choices were not to his benefit.

Edér’s fair head then lifted, and he caught sight of Aloth where he stood. It was surely a trick of the sun glancing off the sea that made his face and eyes light up so brightly. With a wave back at Bearn, Edér took long strides up onto the ship unerringly towards him.

Aloth turned to face him, reluctantly taking in the facts. Edér looked good. Quite apart from looking as strong, handsome, and confident as ever, he looked vibrant. Like life was treating him well. Like he was home.

But Edér didn’t stop when he reached Aloth, pulling him into his arms, nearly lifting him off the floor in his eagerness to tip him back and eliminate the height difference enough to kiss him. Aloth’s hands scrabbled at his arms and shoulders for purchase, hooking into his shirt and clinging on tightly, afraid he might be dropped, but Edér kept kissing him slowly, deliberately, let Aloth know he had him and wasn’t about to let go.

It smashed past the dam of emotion Aloth was holding in, and he kissed back, clutching tightly into Eder’s shirt, not because he was afraid of falling, but to keep him.

Edér hummed in simple happiness, and finally pulled them both back upright, breathless and grinning. “I’d say sorry about that, but I’m not.”

Aloth’s eyes darted across the ship, but no one was paying them any mind. He took a breath to steady himself, trying to find the right words to say while relief flooded his senses. In the end, old habits won out, admonishing him with, “it’s only been a week.” 

But there was a hint of a smile there, too.

“A lot can happen in a week,” Edér countered. He forced out a laugh, nervous. “Was worried maybe you’d come to your senses.”

He knew it would be his own fault, if so: he’d hightailed it out of Neketaka, needing to do something _right_ , itching for something he had control over, and the only thing he could think to do was make sure he fixed some of his own damn mess. He had needed to find some way to come to terms with what Eothas had done, and find who he was. 

And he had. He had found some sort of peace with himself, and what he believed. It was only later with a calmer mind that he had wondered, uneasily, whether he had done the right thing by tearing off. Aloth was smart and patient and understanding - gods, too much so, he wished he could have somehow done more when they had parted, but he hadn’t been in his best mind - but with all those qualities, he might coolly examine their companionship and find it not worthwhile.

But here and now, Aloth looked at him with that clever, assessing gaze, and Edér had the feeling he’d been seen right through. 

“If you keep kissing me like _that_ , I doubt I’ll ever recover them.” Aloth smiled. He felt warm with relief, and wanted to reassure Edér in kind.

Edér relaxed, and returned a real smile of his own. “Did you have an easy enough time gettin’ outta town?”

“I think the powers-that-be were all too glad to see us leave. We’re well-supplied for the journey.”

“Glad we were able to spare some of ‘em.” Edér nodded at the crates being unloaded. “The folk here are workin’ hard to rebuild, but it’s hard to keep morale up when they’re missin’ the basics.”

“They’ll be alright?” Aloth looked out across to where Bearn stood, gesturing to where a crate should be moved.

“Oh, for sure. Boy’s his mother’s son, alright. He’ll do just fine.” Edér took one of Aloth’s hands into his, grinning. “Let me introduce you properly.”

“Are you sure - is that a good idea? I- I mean...” Aloth was apprehensive, but allowed himself to be tugged alongside Edér to the gangplank by their joined hands.

“We got a few minutes. Can show you our handywork, too. Bearn! Want ya to meet somebody, you might remember seein’ him before. This is Aloth.”

Edér knew Aloth could see the difference in the young man. He wore an easy smile, his eyes bright and curious at seeing the flustered elf in his wake.

“I remember.” Bearn nodded at Aloth. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

Aloth inclined his head politely, but was prevented from any further introduction by a nearby shout: one of the crates had splintered under its own weight and its contents were threatening to spill.

“Aw, if that - hey, don’t drop it…!” Edér raced over in alarm to lend a hand before the crew lost their grip.

Aloth was left standing awkwardly with Bearn.

“He’s a good man, Uncle Edér,” Bearn said, nodding as Edér helped steady the crate. “Your friend - the Watcher? - was right about him.”

“He is,” Aloth agreed absently, now watching Edér. He was holding the crate in place of two of the crew as they rotated it to reduce the weight on the damaged wood. Aloth marvelled at his strength. 

“So you better take good care of him.”

Aloth froze. Bearn’s voice was firm, and a little bit knowing. Edér hadn’t exactly been subtle in their reunion, and he felt his face heat up. “I - I’ll do my best.”

Bearn nodded, and that was all that was said on the matter.

It didn’t take long for the remaining crates to be unloaded, but it was enough time for Bearn and Edér to proudly show Aloth the repairs they’d worked on in the week immediately after the events at Ukaizo, and point out from the sea wall where they intended to replant crops for the Dawnstars.

And Aloth understood why Edér had needed this. His heart felt lighter.

Soon they were both back on The Defiant, and Bearn’s waving figure grew smaller on the horizon.

“Were you able to talk about everything you wanted?” Aloth asked, finally, as they turned away from Hasongo, out onto the open sea.

“Pretty much. Going to try and write, here and there. Not much good at it, but I’d like him to feel he’s got someone watchin’ out for him.”

Aloth didn’t pry further. Edér looked happy, far more relaxed than Aloth had ever seen him without a pipe in his mouth. Whatever he had discovered in his week amongst the Dawnstars, Edér would tell him when he was good and ready, he knew.

Edér stretched, leaned back against one of the masts. “So - tell me all about what happened with the others, and how the celebrations all went down.”

Aloth opened his mouth, for once eager to talk, to share news… and then stopped, as a thought occurred to him. He hesitated in giving it voice, but Iselmyr urged him on.

“Not all the sailors wanted to sail as far as Dyrwood. Even accounting for the crew, there are far less of us aboard.” Aloth said, instead. Edér looked puzzled by the non-sequitur, and he continued, “I… know some places below deck where we could sit and… talk. Quietly.”

Edér blinked, and after a pause, his eyes crinkled in delight. “Well. Lead the way.”

Aloth did with confidence, despite the hammering of his heart at his own daring. He was still daunted, but there was something to be said for having had the time after Ukaizo to reflect on his choices.

He had been part of something that had changed the world. It was time he changed his own, one step at a time.

The problems of gods and kith could wait a while longer.


End file.
